How Galaxies Collide
by ClaudiaRain
Summary: Cisco takes it upon himself to help Harry make a life on Earth-1 and enlists Caitlin's help. Obviously, that leads to her and Harry going on a variety of fake dates so he can become acclimated to the differences in dating cultures between the two Earths. Everything's fine...until the lines between what's real and what's pretend start to irrevocably blur.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** I had this idea after 4x03 and couldn't let it go, so I started writing it down...and this is what it became.

As ever, thanks so much to crazygirlne for reading this over and her invaluable feedback, love ya!

 **XXXXXX**

"Today's your lucky day, Harry," Cisco declared as he strolled into the cortex, two cups of coffee in hand, one of which he set on the desk in front of Harry.

"Thanks," the older man said, slightly wary, then took a careful sip; to his surprise, it was exactly the way he liked it. Then he remembered Cisco's greeting. "You quitting, Ramon?"

"No, but I'm tempted to take that coffee back."

Harry set a protective hand over it. "Stay away."

Cisco held up his hands to indicate it had been an empty threat. "After thinking it over, I've decided to help you."

"First, I'd never need your help. With anything," Harry said easily, as he turned in his chair so he could face Cisco. "Second – merely out of curiosity – what do you want to help me with, exactly?"

"Your new life!" Cisco's voice was too bright for Harry to take this early in the morning. "Remember our conversation a couple weeks ago? That you want to make a life for yourself on our Earth since you have no life on Earth-2?"

"I don't recall saying I had _no_ life –"

"Semantics," Cisco said, waving him off. "The point is, I want to see you succeed. And that means getting a few pointers and dating tips for this Earth."

Harry laughed, somewhat caustically. "The day I ever need dating advice from you, Ramon, is the day I might as well not bother since I clearly have an inoperable brain tumor."

"I love the way you kid around," Cisco said cheerfully, as he took the seat next to him and spun his chair to face the older man. "However, your potential dates probably won't – so rein that in, okay?"

"I don't need help," Harry repeated, switching his attention back to the monitor in front of him. "Dating or otherwise. So forget it."

"Harry, did you or did you not agree to break up with your daughter's boyfriend for her? And using some kind of device that you had no idea didn't _exist_ on our Earth?"

Harry set his mouth into a disapproving line. "I fail to see what you're getting at."

"My point is that you're woefully unaware of some aspects of our Earth. Such as how hurtful your actions were towards Wally."

"Yeah, sure, but…" Harry shrugged, hardly concerned. "It was _Wally_." Upon seeing Cisco's clear unhappiness, Harry sighed. "He's a tough kid. He'll bounce back. Or whatever I have to say to get you to leave me alone."

Cisco was shaking his head in disappointment. "And while the old me would have been happy to send you out into our world and laugh as you crashed and burned… For some reason, I don't want to see that anymore."

Harry tilted his chair back, considering Cisco's (almost painful) honesty. "You mean that?"

"I do, man. I didn't ask you to stay just for you. I asked you to stay because…we like having you here. And…it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if you found a reason to never leave."

Harry almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're actually serious."

"Yes! I figure the two of us can start going out at night. I mean, I'm a taken man now, but I can be your wingman if need be."

Harry shuddered at the mere thought. "I don't think that's necessary, Cisco. Really."

Cisco clicked his tongue a few times in apparent thought. "As much as I hate to admit it, I think you're right. My techniques for getting dates take a lot of sophistication to pull off. Like, a _lot_."

Harry stared at the ceiling. "Right, so…thanks but no thanks."

"I probably can't help you on the flipside either, since I don't think I'm the demographic you're looking to impress." He tipped his head, squinting at Harry. "Am I?"

"Ramon, you're barely _anyone's_ type. Let alone mine."

"Tell that to my smoking hot girlfriend," Cisco smirked.

"I do," Harry shot back, "every time she shows up! She's somehow never swayed."

Caitlin entered the cortex, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief that he was saved.

"Morning guys," she said, taking a seat at the main desk next to Harry. "How's it going?"

"Actually…" Cisco began slyly, looking between them, "know who _is_ your demographic, Harry? Plus or minus twenty years?"

Harry tried to keep Cisco quiet with his deadliest possible glare, but the younger man obviously ignored him.

"Caitlin!" Cisco answered his own question, with great delight.

The younger woman had glanced up at him, only half-listening to their conversation. "What?"

"You're _exactly_ who Harry is looking to date."

"Huh?" she asked ineloquently, as she turned to Harry. "You want to date me?"

"Not you!" Harry exclaimed. "I'd never date _you_ , Snow. That'd be…strange."

He wasn't sure if it was his imagination that her expression shuttered a little. "I don't know how much of an insult that is."

"It's not one at all," he rushed to assure her. "This is Cisco's fault. He thinks I need help dating on your Earth and 'generously' –" he made sure to use air quotes, "– offered to help me. Before realizing he can't even help himself, most of the time. So now he's volunteering your services."

"I'm confused." She'd been looking between the two men and stopped on Harry. "You want me to help you pick up women?"

Harry tried to explain. " _I_ don't want anything –"

Cisco immediately cut him off. "I want you to give Harry a few pointers about dating on this Earth. Such as what women here want – though that's probably anyone's guess. Basically help him out, you know? If that's possible?" He looked at Harry, somewhat sternly. "As for you, just be yourself." He paused a moment. "But not too much."

Harry ignored that, because to his immense surprise, Caitlin hadn't reacted to Cisco's request with disbelief or humor – in fact, she was merely looking him up and down in such a way that he was suddenly self-conscious, crossing his arms in front of him. For good measure, he sent her as intimidating a look as he could manage, right then. (Which was to say, probably not intimidating at all.)

She was entirely unaffected. "Harry, when was the last time you went on a date?"

"The eighties," Cisco loudly coughed, then lurched back in reflexive surprise when Harry and Caitlin turned twin glares on him.

"I thought you wanted to help," Caitlin scolded. "Your snide comments are not helpful, Cisco. So if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all."

"Sorry," he mumbled. And he didn't miss the appreciation in Harry's eyes at Caitlin's defense of him – it was enough to distract Cisco from part of their next conversation. (Well, it was either that or outright denial by his conscious mind of what he was hearing.) By the time he registered their words again, Caitlin was actually telling Harry that his clothes "weren't that bad, even if they _were_ always black."

"Really?" Cisco bit out, unable to stop his laughter. Though when Caitlin fixed her eyes on him again, he immediately sobered. "Really, I…happen to agree."

"Save it, Ramon," Harry said, swiveling in his seat and kicking a foot out to shove Cisco's rolling chair a few feet away. "At least someone around here is serious about this." He sent Caitlin a smile that lingered, and Cisco was once again fascinated – had he ever seen that expression from Harry before? (If so, he couldn't remember.) "Caitlin and I have come to an agreement."

Cisco was a little afraid to ask, but forced himself to do so, anyways. "An agreement?" How long had he been tuned out of their conversation? Perhaps he'd suffered a minor seizure upon realizing how well they were getting along.

"I'm going to go out with Harry a few times – we'll go on some dates to make sure his behavior is appropriate for this Earth and that he's not doing anything wrong without realizing it."

"On this Earth, you people do a lot of odd things that make no sense," Harry explained. "It won't hurt to have someone help me navigate that."

"We do odd things?" Cisco protested, in disbelief. " _We_ do odd things."

Caitlin had reached over for Harry's coffee, trying a sip of it and nearly choking on how bitter it was. "God, this is terrible. Have you ever heard of sugar?"

"Things like that!" Harry yelled, pointing at Caitlin and then Cisco, glad she'd proven his point. "Stealing my coffee is odd. Not to mention illegal." At their confusion, he explained. "On Earth-2, I could press charges for that."

"No you couldn't," Cisco scoffed, though he honestly had no idea. (But where Harry was concerned, he was embellishing about 95% of the time, so it was most likely a safe bet.)

Caitlin blatantly ignored Harry's continued protests, sliding his coffee back to him and facing Cisco again. "It's also been a while since Harry last seriously dated anyone, so he'll be able to brush up on those social skills."

"I still object to that part," Harry protested. "My social skills are _fine_." When they seemed not to believe him, he scowled. "I don't steal people's coffee, do I?"

Caitlin bit back her smile and challenged, "Quick, say something about Cisco that isn't sarcastic."

"He…uh…there's…" He slapped a palm on the desk in front of them. "Damn it, Snow!"

"Hold up, I didn't say anything about the two of you going on dates," Cisco said, slightly appalled, as his gaze shifted between his two friends. He was having immense trouble following what had happened. "And wait a minute, Harry. When I made a suggestion to help you, it was the last thing you wanted. Then Caitlin comes along and agrees, and suddenly you're perfectly fine with it?"

"That's because I trust _her_ judgement, Ramon. Not so much yours."

"Yeah, but – I mean –" Cisco sputtered, before staring at Caitlin. "You're going to date Harry?"

" _Pretend_ to date him," Caitlin corrected.

He shot his gaze over to Harry. "You're going to date Caitlin?"

" _Fake_ dating," Harry stressed, as he exchanged an amused glance with Caitlin. "I think he's having trouble processing this."

"You two are going to _date_!" Cisco shouted, voice unnaturally high-pitched, and by now the other two were looking at him with no small amount of concern. "Am I the only one who sees the potential problems here?"

"This was your idea," Caitlin reminded Cisco, and to his frustration, she seemed completely unconcerned with his objections. "You're the one to blame, really."

"Yes," Harry said gleefully, no doubt recognizing how distressed Cisco truly was – and reveling in it. "You essentially came up with it, so thank you very much." He got up to leave, and when he walked by Cisco, he patted him on the shoulder. "I appreciate how much you care."

"I…what…no…" Cisco trailed off, since he really had nothing he could say.

"And thank you to our lovely Caitlin Snow," Harry added, winking at her over Cisco's head, in a move Cisco _knew_ was only meant to aggravate him.

Caitlin was grinning so widely that the insult Cisco was going to toss at Harry died in his throat. The two of them were looking at each other – _smiling_ at each other – in a way Cisco had never seen before.

And he began to wonder exactly what he'd done.

 **XXXXXX**

"Alright, Harry," Caitlin said, as they entered Jitters on the Thursday evening after they'd made their arrangement. "For our first night, let's run through the very basics. I'm curious how you'd introduce yourself to a woman that you're interested in. I picked a coffee shop on purpose, figuring it'd be the perfect atmosphere to try this out." She studied him, truly curious about how this might go. "I'm wondering if pick up techniques are much different on Earth-2."

"I don't think they are, but we'll find out."

"I'm going to sit at one of the empty tables," she told him, "and then you come up and see if you can get me to invite you to sit down."

"Easy enough," he said, smugly.

"We'll see," she told him, picking a random table as he trailed along after her. There weren't many people in the coffee shop tonight and she chose a table along the aisle near the counter so they could have easy access to coffee and snacks, if needed.

She sat down and pretended not to notice him hovering a few feet away.

"I would like to sit here," he announced.

She inwardly sighed. "There are a few dozen other tables that are empty."

"Is that – have you rejected me already? I only said…" he counted, "six words!"

"Exactly. And none of those six words told me why I should let you sit with me."

"On Earth-2, assertiveness is a highly-valued trait and is preferred over _questions_." She swore he almost shuddered when he said that last word. "Questions are a sign of weakness when it comes to dating, for the most part."

She waited for the punchline, but he was simply staring at her, and she honestly had no idea if he was serious or if he was putting her on. Either one might well be the case. She decided to avoid the potential debate, instead asking, "Are we on Earth-2?"

"Unfortunately not. If so, you would have veritably swooned at that opening line."

Now she could tell he was kidding and she glanced away to hide her smile. She could _not_ encourage him. "I somehow doubt that, Harry. Try again."

"I would like to sit…here?" He pitched his last word higher in what she could only assume was a desperate attempt to make it seem like he'd been asking a question.

"No. Do it again. And this time, don't try and disguise your demand as a question."

He heaved a sigh, mumbling something under his breath she couldn't quite hear, and when she glared at him, he made an effort to let go of his irritation, clearing his expression. "May I sit here?" he asked, so politely that even _he_ was surprised at himself.

Caitlin beamed at him in such a way that he could suddenly understand the appeal of following this Earth's rituals when it came to the mechanics of dating. "You may," she said, waving at the empty seat across from her, and he sat down. "Another common approach is to ask if the seat is taken."

"Why would I ask if it's taken when I can see that no one's sitting in it?"

Instead of looking exasperated, as he expected, she merely folded her arms and rested them on the table. "I could have been waiting for someone, but it's mostly a formality, Harry. A socially polite way of indicating that you'd like to join someone without having to outright ask."

"You people and your subterfuge," he complained. "I think a lot of things would run more smoothly on your Earth if people just said what they _meant_."

She thought about that, realizing he had a fair point. "You might be right, but that's not how it works. Blunt honesty is often seen as an insult here."

"Tell me about it," he griped, and she ducked her head to hide yet another smile. Of course that was a topic of which he was more than aware.

"Okay, so you've secured a seat at my table. Now what?"

"You tell me. What's normal here?"

"Tell me your name, for starters. A little about yourself. Remember, I don't know you."

"I'm Harrison Wells," he began, and just from his tone, Caitlin knew she'd made a mistake. "I'm a genius engineer and physicisist who single-handedly revolutionized –"

"New idea, let's skip the introductions for tonight," Caitlin cut in, ignoring his huff of disappointment. "Don't put your date to sleep in the first five minutes by listing all your achievements."

"I resent that," he told her, crossing his arms. "It'd take a half hour, at least, to list _all_ my achievements."

"Keep it short and simple, Harry," she urged. "Trust me. Now let's move on."

"To…?"

"Try an icebreaker to start up a conversation. Or ask me about myself, like if I come here often, what I do for work, why I'm here so late on a Thursday evening…"

"I know you come here often and you work at S.T.A.R. Labs and you're here to help me with dating on another Earth. The last of which, I think I'm pretty –" he broke off at her look, reconsidering, "– adequate at?"

"Adequate is quite the compliment to your skills so far," she told him, as he frowned at her. "And you're going about it all wrong. You're thinking of me as 'Caitlin Snow' when you should be thinking of me as 'anonymous coffee shop woman that you want to get to know better'."

His mouth turned down at that, and he glanced at the table, running his fingers over it in absent movement. He didn't _want_ to pick up some anonymous woman in a coffee shop. He never had, and he never would. But that seemed to be how they did things on this Earth – that and online dating (which he was never going near). So what choice did he have except to try and get better at this particular method?

He shook himself out of his self-pitying thoughts and glanced back up at her. "I'll try. So, Snow…uh, I mean, random woman at this coffee shop, can I get you some coffee? Or something to eat, perhaps?"

Her brilliant smile told him he was doing something right, and it was enough to put him more at ease. "I would love some coffee. And a chocolate scone, please."

"Am I supposed to pretend I don't know how you like your coffee?" he asked. "Since we're not supposed to know each other?"

"Okay, fine," she relented. "There are _some_ perks to knowing each other already, I'll admit that. I'll take my usual."

He nodded and went to get her usual order (extra cream, extra sugar) along with a scone for her and a decaf coffee for himself. When he returned to the table with their order, she was watching him in a way that threw him off-guard.

"What?" he asked.

She leaned back, expression clearing. "Nothing," she claimed, stirring her coffee and avoiding his eyes. He let it go (because he knew all too well how it felt to be caught in the middle of thinking things he shouldn't be thinking).

"Why are coffee shops so popular on this Earth?" It was something he'd always wondered. "I mean, we have them, too, but not one on every block. You people are almost obsessed compared to my planet. Do you all need that much help to stay awake?"

"It's not so much the coffee," she said, as she thought about it. "It just gives a calm, quiet atmosphere to talk. And coffee is such a universally popular drink that it makes sense it'd become an excuse for casual dates."

"But it's past 8 pm," he pointed out. "How do you people drink coffee so _late_?" He was genuinely baffled. "Do you want to stay up _all night_?"

At his question, Caitlin pressed a hand to her mouth, like she was seriously mulling over his question. "Maybe I do want to stay up… _all night_."

It took him a few seconds to catch her innuendo. "Caitlin Snow."

"Hey, you asked."

"And you answered with a joke."

"Is it really a joke?" she challenged.

"I have no idea," he admitted, as he rubbed his hands over his face. "But whatever you're suggesting, if it lasts all night then I'm tired just thinking about it."

She had to laugh at that. "Clearly you need more coffee." She tapped his mug in disapproval. "And not decaf."

Their conversation slipped into the usual topics – projects at work and various meta-humans they'd recently come across. If there was one thing they never ran out of, it was things to talk about. Caitlin knew she should have steered them back on course at some point – talking about things they already knew were each other's interests was basically like cheating when it came to this, but she was enjoying herself too much to remind him that they should be practicing small talk about mundane topics instead of having in-depth discussions about things that fascinated them both.

When the conversation finally lulled a bit, and Caitlin was pulling apart pieces of her scone, Harry asked, "What would you have been doing tonight if you hadn't decided to help me?"

"A whole lot of nothing," she told him, and upon seeing his disapproving glance at what she was doing to her food, she pushed the rest of it across the table to him. "I'd probably be at home watching TV. Gypsy's visiting, so Cisco's with her. Barry and Iris took Joe and Cecile out for a congratulatory dinner." Her face slipped into a smile. "They wanted to celebrate."

"You think they'll get married?" He took a bite of her scone, surprised at how much he enjoyed it.

Caitlin nodded. "It's definitely possible. They're so happy, and now with the baby..."

"I feel like their relationship happened pretty fast," Harry remarked. "Granted, I haven't been around that much in the past year –" he tried not to react to how unhappy she looked at that statement, "but I'm talking about from what I've seen."

"It was quick, but it also wasn't, in a way," Caitlin said. "What matters is that they love each other. When you know, you know."

"What I want to know," Harry said, tapping his fingers on the table, "is how the two of us are the only single people on a team that includes Barry Allen and Cisco Ramon."

"I don't know about you," Caitlin said, propping her head on her hand, "but I have very high standards, Harry."

He was definitely amused. "What a coincidence! So do I."

"You?" she asked with feigned shock. "Noooo. Not Harrison Wells, the genius engineer and physicist who single-handedly –"

"Alright," he interrupted, with no shortage of humor, once he realized she was mocking his earlier introduction. "I get it, Snow."

She leaned back in her chair, assessing him. "What do you do if no one ever measures up?"

"You keep looking."

"That's your only suggestion?" she pressed. "The perfect woman isn't going to magically appear out of thin air."

He eyed her speculatively. "She just might."

"You have a lot more faith than I do," Caitlin said wistfully, glancing around the coffee shop; she wondered if there was anyone in there she could stand to go on more than one date with. (Never mind spend a lifetime with.)

"It's not about faith," Harry was telling her. "It's about keeping your eyes open so that when you find someone you're truly compatible with, you don't let them pass you by. You take a chance."

"That's what this is about, then?" She waved between them, and he was momentarily speechless until she added, "Wanting to get comfortable with dating someone? I never thought that _you_ of all people would have to build your confidence to ask someone out."

"Cisco basically strong-armed me into doing this," he argued.

"Please. When was the last time you did anything you didn't want to do?"

He clasped his hands together, resting his forearms on the table so he could lean slightly over it. "Fine, you're right. As usual." He really wondered, sometimes, about her uncanny ability to so accurately read him. "I _did_ want to go over things with you, not to build my confidence, but because I trust you."

"I'm not following, Harry."

"You'll tell me the truth," he said simply, leaning back. "If I do something idiotic or awful, if I come off as too arrogant or sarcastic or acerbic – you'll tell me. Because I _am_ serious about wanting to date, wanting to find some kind of life that's my own and not just about our team. The last thing I want is to unintentionally drive away a woman that I think I might genuinely come to care for. And as much as I hate to admit it, that's the kind of thing I very well might do." He was staring at her with an intensity that she kind of understood. "So I'm trusting you not to steer me wrong."

"I wouldn't," she promised, "but honestly, Harry, I don't really think you need me." At his confusion, she continued, "You can be sweet and funny and charming – when you want to be. I've seen it – rarely, to be sure – but I've seen it. The problem is you never seem to _want_ to be." Come to think of it, she'd only ever seen it when the two of them were alone. "So dating is just about trying to highlight all those qualities in yourself. It's about showing another person what you could offer them in a relationship. Which is you."

"What if it takes more than that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know on your Earth that grand gestures are usually part of dating. Elaborate gifts or surprises, planned romantic evenings and trips. I'm not…great at that kind of thing. I don't really know how to be."

"Sure, all of that stuff is nice, but what it comes down to is if two people want to spend time together. If who you are as a person is lacking? Then none of that extra stuff matters. It's more a bonus than anything else." She stole back a piece of her scone. "Plus, you could always learn to do those kinds of things."

"I guess I could," he agreed, "but what I can't do is pretend. I can't be that fake person who puts on a persona of what I think other people want from me. I don't _want_ to do that, because it would mean the person I was with didn't know me at all. I'm aware that I'm not the most…social person in the world. So what if the way that I am is just…not enough?"

"If someone's getting to know you and you allow them to see who you are, who you really _are_ , Harry – the man who cares about the people in his life, his family and friends – the man who has decided to dedicate his life not only to helping them, but helping to save strangers, as well? If anyone ever told you that who _you_ are is not enough?" She paused as a dozen images flashed in front of her mind – every time he'd ever saved them or someone else. Every time he'd been hurt or nearly died because of it. "Then they don't know what they're talking about. And they sure as hell don't deserve you."

Upon finding that he had no idea what to say, he reached across the table to put his hand over one of hers. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," she answered, flipping her hand over to grasp his. "I'm only telling the truth."

He gripped her hand tightly for a few seconds before pulling away, and ignored the fact that he really hadn't wanted to let her go. "Everything that you just said about me? You might as well have taken the thoughts from my head, because that's exactly how I feel about you. I hope you know that."

She blinked at him in surprise. "I do now. Thank you."

"Just telling the truth," he said, echoing what she'd told him. Their eyes met for too long and Harry tried to remind himself why they were there. "How am I doing?" he asked, in a bid at distraction.

It took her a moment to remember what he was referring to, and as she thought back to their earlier teasing conversation, she broke into a grin. "Adequate, Harry. Definitely adequate."

"What a flattering assessment."

"Hey, you've more than earned it so far," she quipped, and she saw the exact moment he registered the backhanded compliment. (She also felt it, too, when he kicked her chair under the table.) "Very mature."

"I never claimed to be," he pointed out, sure he wasn't hiding his smile as effectively as he hoped. "You're also a very harsh judge, if you ask me."

"You could try and sway me more," she suggested. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Harry."

"Hey, I thought we were supposed to be helping _me_ ," he said, suspiciously.

"Consider it your most important lesson so far: compliments go a long way when you're dating someone."

"I'll keep it in mind," he said. When she watched him expectantly, he frowned at her. "Don't think I'm going to waste my best ones on you!"

She couldn't help laughing again and they subsequently fell back into an easy conversation.

They ended up staying there for another two hours…which went pretty much the same as the first thirty minutes had gone.

 **XXXXXX**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** I'm having too much fun with this, as evidenced by how I just keep adding more to it. And I'm so very glad others are enjoying it, too. You guys are wonderful!

 **XXXXXX**

"Why are we here again?" Harry asked, as he laced up his shoes.

He and Caitlin had been on a handful of dates thus far, and each time it had been something different. She claimed she wanted him to experience a 'variety of things', but he thought she was secretly choosing activities she happened to favor. No matter her reasons, he'd started looking forward to _whatever_ she chose, as the 'what' seemed less important than who he was spending his evenings with – a reaction which he chose not to examine too closely, right then.

"It's called _fun_ , Harry." Her voice brought him back to the present.

"If you say so," he muttered, looking around the bowling alley that was surprisingly busy for a Wednesday evening. There was a broad mix of people there – families with young children, groups of teenagers, couples on date nights, and older people who were wearing League shirts and practicing. They'd actually gotten one of the last lanes available.

She sent him a scrutinizing look. "You do know how to have fun, right?"

He dodged her sarcastic question, knowing she didn't expect a real response to it. "Bowling on my Earth is mostly viewed as a professional sport. Sure, we have bowling alleys people can go to, but they're not very popular." He motioned around the enormous building they were in, full of happy, laughing people, the sounds of balls hitting pins, and distant music of the connecting arcade. Central City Bowling & Recreation Center (such a _creative name_ , he'd sarcastically pointed out) contained a loud and boisterous energy that had taken him aback, at first. "Where I'm from, it's nothing like this."

"Really?" She was genuinely surprised. "But it's such a great time!"

"I'm mostly used to it being a sport where you have to meet a strict set of standards to join even a lower-tier team." He sent her an assessing look. "You'd never make it."

"You haven't seen me bowl yet," she protested, as she finished lacing her shoes and went to join him at the lane. "I find it very sad that you people don't do this for fun."

"You find the strangest things sad," he remarked. "Besides, I find fun in challenges and bowling is incredibly easy." He was surveying the pins at the end of their lane. "Tell me, where's the challenge?"

"Where's the challenge, huh?" She pointed at the row of brightly-colored bowling balls in their lane. "Go ahead."

He picked one up in distaste. "I can't believe you don't have uniform colors, talk about unprofess–"

"Harry."

"Fine." He took a second to line up his shot, mentally calculating, then let go and… Caitlin barely bit back a groan of annoyance. It was a perfect strike, which meant he was going to turn back to her with that smug – yup, there it was. While he hit the button to reset the lane, she entered his score on the terminal by jabbing the buttons a little too hard.

"Beginner's luck," she insisted.

"It's not about luck. I told you I was good." He came up behind her to see what she was doing. "You have to enter scores manually? _And_ I had to reset the lane myself!" He sounded increasingly put-out. "You know, on Earth-2, everything is automated."

"Most places are here, too. This one's a little old-fashioned." She sent him a look over her shoulder. "It suits you."

" _I'm_ old-fashioned?" he protested. "I have been at the forefront of cutting edge science and technology for –"

"Decades and decades," she interrupted, then added for good measure, "and decades."

"Funny," he said, reaching around her to enter a zero for her first round.

She swatted his hand away to erase the fake score. "I can't believe you're cheating already."

"I'm not cheating, merely…testing this antiquated system. Besides, you scoring a zero will probably be true soon enough."

She took her spot at the end of the lane, lined up the ball, and tried to ignore him (saying something about how her form was all wrong). She threw the ball down the exact center – or at least, she tried. For some strange reason, it inexplicably curved, hitting the gutter not even halfway down.

"Form, Snow," he repeated. "Form."

"Shut up."

"I can't think that attitude will help matters," he said, "and you're right, I'm actually having fun already! It looks like my prediction of zero for you was eerily accurate."

"I get another shot," she snapped, which he very well knew. "And that was a fluke." Though she shouldn't have jinxed herself, since the second attempt went straight into the opposite gutter, and she ended up scoring zero points, after all. Her shoulders fell as she looked down their lane – she didn't even have to press the 'reset' button after her turn – how humiliating was that?

"Sorry, Snow. You need to refine your technique." He shot her a smirk. "To that end, you should watch me."

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's more mental than physical," he said, as he went to the line. "It's simply a matter of variables – speed, angle of throw, rotation on the ball, any potential irregularities on the surface plane, annnd –" He let go right as Caitlin yelled at him to wait (solely as a means of distraction), and the ball actually skipped across the lane before hitting the gutter.

"Annnd?" she prompted.

"And –" He took a step toward her, causing her to reflexively jump back. He merely arched a brow and reached past her to get another ball, before continuing, "And apparently, the most important variable that I forgot – the underhanded methods your date will go to in order to even the playing field. Though if I'd known you were going to do that, I would have easily been able to offset it."

"Of course you would have," she said sweetly, feeling an irrational level of satisfaction considering _she_ had been the one to cause him to miss.

"Try it again," he dared. "Now that I'm aware of your tactic, it won't matter."

She had a feeling he was telling the truth, so she waited until his next attempt, and right before he let go, she gave him a light shove to the side. His momentum was off enough that he more or less dropped the ball instead of rolled it, and the two of them watched it slowly, painfully roll to the end of the lane. It knocked down exactly zero pins.

He put his hands on his hips, staring her down. "That's how it's going to be?"

"I tripped," she insisted. "And didn't you say you wanted a challenge, anyways?"

"I'd warn you to watch out for my retaliation, but you don't need any help from me to fail."

As it turned out, he was right; her next turn was equally as awful. True to his word, he didn't do anything to distract her, but his presence as he quietly watched her was unnerving enough. She felt like he was judging every move she made (probably because he was) and it rattled her enough that she managed two pins with two throws. She glared at the end of the lane, wishing she could set the stupid pins on fire with her gaze alone.

"I don't get it," she said, unsure if he was really to blame or if she was much more awful at bowling than she remembered. "I threw straight, I swear I did! It's much harder than I remember. I guess I shouldn't feel bad, lots of people can't bowl that well –"

Loud cheering from the next lane caught her and Harry's attention, and they glanced over to see a young girl who couldn't have been older than six jumping up and down after having rolled a strike on her first try.

Caitlin whirled around to glare at Harry. "Don't even say it."

"I don't think anything needs to be said." His tone was placating. "Not when your skill level speaks for itself." She pushed him again in retaliation, but that time she was laughing.

Their first few turns ended up being a pretty accurate indicator for the rest of the game. Harry was apparently a bowling prodigy, rarely getting under an eight, and Caitlin was lucky if she took down half the pins in two rolls. It was disconcerting and it only took a few turns for her to decide she was entirely blameless in this equation and everything was his fault. Somehow. His general commentary was too distracting – yes, that _had_ to be it. (After all, how could she ever throw the ball straight if she was usually laughing too hard?)

And even as she failed to improve, he quickly learned to ignore each new trick she tried. She started taking more drastic measures to get him to mess up – bringing up issues she knew annoyed him, entering his personal space, and even changing a few of his scores in the system itself (though he always caught her after the fact). When little that she did had any measurable effect on the results (and he won the first game handily by forty points), she decided to play her ultimate card: she texted Barry and Cisco, asking if they wanted to have some fun at Harry's expense. Naturally, they immediately agreed and said they'd be there ASAP.

She suggested to Harry that they take a short break for some food, going to get them both some fries. When she returned, she challenged him to close his eyes for the first frame of their second game. To her surprise, he agreed, and on that first roll he got his lowest initial score yet (aside from the few times she'd made him miss all the pins) – a seven.

"That was terrible," he complained, staring at the three upright pins like they were personally offending him.

"Seven is what I got on my last turn. In _two_ rolls."

"Like I said," he glanced at her, "terrible."

Just as he was about to roll again, Barry and Cisco called his name in tandem and his aim was off just slightly enough that he missed all the remaining pins.

Rather than greet them, he immediately turned to Caitlin. "That desperate, Snow?"

"You said you liked challenges," she reminded him with a grin, kicking back in her seat as the two other men came over. "I'm only thinking of you, Harry."

"Don't mind us," Barry said cheerfully, "we won't be interrupting your _pretend_ date." He and Cisco exchanged an amused look that had Harry turning away and throwing his hands up in exasperation. "We'll just be in the next lane. Not bothering either of you."

"Your presence alone bothers me," Harry informed them. "Besides, both lanes around us are occupied."

Cisco leaned down to whisper something to the group of ten-year-olds in the next lane. Within seconds, they were clearing out, yelling their thanks to him.

"I know the manager's code to get free tokens from the machines on the recreation side," Cisco told them. At their obvious curiosity, he explained, "I used to date a girl who worked here."

"Back in high school or something?" Barry asked, lacing up his shoes.

Cisco was confused. "No man, it was last year."

"I see your moral compass has improved since then," Harry told him, wryly.

"It's a victimless crime!" Cisco exclaimed, as the three men started arguing over the actual definition of theft.

Caitlin watched in satisfaction that her plan was already working beautifully. It continued for the rest of the night, too. As easily as Harry might be able to ignore one of them, it was markedly different with _three_ of them, and it threw him off his game much more. He had to contribute to _every_ discussion, especially when he could point out the ways in which they were wrong about whatever the topic happened to be. His concentration suffered as a result, and by the end of the night, his and Caitlin's scores were much more even. He was still winning, but it was no longer a defeat Caitlin would call 'humiliating'.

"You know, Harry," Cisco began (he was tossing popcorn up in the air and trying to catch it with his mouth, failing more often than not), "you've made it clear that the last thing you want from me is dating advice, but typically, it's common to let your date win."

"Why?" Harry had just finished his last turn and Caitlin went to take his place. "What's the point of that?"

Cisco and Barry looked at each other and shrugged, obviously never having thought too much about it.

"It's polite, I guess?" Barry suggested. "So she doesn't feel bad about losing. Gets you on her good side, so to speak."

"She lost," Harry pointed out. "It's not my fault if she feels bad about losing. She should have done better."

"I'm not done yet," Caitlin called. "I can still turn it around."

"The game's effectively over," Harry reminded her. "You couldn't get enough points on this last turn to surpass my score."

"It's a _joke_ , Harry," she complained, as she got a six (sadly, decent for her night) and entered their final scores.

"Aren't jokes supposed to be funny?" Cisco mused, laughing when Caitlin gave him a shove on the shoulder as she took the seat between him and Harry.

"I did all I could," she dramatically sighed, stealing some of Cisco's popcorn. (She really had, too – if inviting Barry and Cisco to the bowling alley wasn't enough to prove that, she had no idea what was.)

"You did do everything, including trying to cheat," Harry said, nodding in satisfaction. "Which I greatly admire. It shows you really wanted it. But you still lost."

"Yes, Harry." She threw some popcorn at him. "I _know_."

"Man, you really don't get it," Cisco said, laughing. "I'm not saying winning is necessarily a bad thing, but gloating about it? You're not going to get another date with anyone if you do that."

Harry considered that. "I suppose you have a point. I don't need to constantly remind Snow how terrible she is –" he frowned when Caitlin rolled her eyes to the ceiling, "– she knows that well enough on her own."

"God help you when Caitlin sets you free in the world," Barry said, shaking his head. "Or maybe…God help the world." He went to take his own last turn.

Harry studied Caitlin, who was still staring at the ceiling. For some reason. "Is that what you would have preferred, Snow? For me to let you win?"

"Me, personally? No. I don't mind losing. But other women? Yeah…you might have to be a little more careful. Read their cues, you know?"

"Unless you're content with never going on more than one date with the same woman," Cisco chimed in. "In which case, keep doing what you're doing."

"Losing on purpose seems to defeat the point of it being a game," Harry said, mostly to himself, and the differences suddenly clicked in Caitlin's mind. He'd told her that on his Earth bowling was predominantly viewed as a sport and the goal was to win. Until Cisco and Barry had mentioned it, it probably hadn't even occurred to him to play badly on purpose. And it hadn't occurred to Caitlin to tell him that, either.

"I think I completely failed you on this date," she admitted, as he turned to her. "I should have told you it's not uncommon to try and keep the scores more even so your date isn't embarrassed or upset. Some people's pride can take a hit. But I was also telling the truth that I wouldn't have wanted you to hold back with me. Truthfully, I had much more fun trying to _get_ you to lose."

"I noticed," he said, eyes laughing. "I have the bruises to prove it."

"I didn't hit you that hard!" she protested, even though she knew he was kidding. "So in any case, just be aware that some people might not like to be handily beaten. And even if you do win, that doesn't mean you have to keep reminding them of that fact."

"Maybe I'll just never take anyone bowling," he said, as they watched their friends finish up their game. "It seems the safer option."

Caitlin had to smile when Cisco entered the numbers for their final turn and he and Barry high fived upon realizing they'd both gotten the exact same score – their game had been a draw.

"Apparently I need the practice, so I'd come with you again," she offered. "I had a good time tonight, Harry. I think you did, too."

"It wasn't…intolerable." When she sent him a disbelieving look, he admitted, "Okay, I enjoyed it, too. Maybe I'd go bowling again. With you, that is…just so I don't have to worry about whether or not I should try to play worse. I'm confused, though, why did you suggest this idea if you're terrible at bowling? Was it a test to see how I'd react to your complete lack of skill?"

"No," she said, elbowing him in the side. "It's been a while, but I used to be pretty good at it. I can only blame the company for why I did so horribly tonight."

"Oh, so it's my fault, now?" He studied her for a moment. "I suppose I could see how my superior skill set might have flustered you enough to throw you off."

"Uh huh, that's definitely what I meant." A new idea suddenly occurred to her, and her eyes lit up. "What if it's something else? Maybe the bowling alley is jinxed or something! That could happen to us, right?"

"And it only affected you?" he scoffed. "You're reaching, Snow. Besides, I don't think even a jinx could make anyone _that_ terrible."

She scowled at him, deciding it was a perfect teachable moment. "This is where you console me – I mean, your date – on their devastating loss, Harry. Not continue to insult them."

"How about this," he began, putting his arm around her shoulders, "like you said, you're out of practice. And if you're actually serious about wanting to play better, I could help you. If you wanted. In any case, you shouldn't feel bad about losing. No one's perfect at everything."

She tipped her head back to smile up at him in thanks.

"Although," he continued, "I do come pretty close."

She started laughing, somehow annoyed at the fact that she could never stay annoyed at him. "Only pretty close?"

"I don't want to make you feel inadequate."

"Mission accomplished," she said, leaning more into his side.

"Hey," Cisco said, and they looked up to find him standing before them, clearly suspicious. "You two realize this is all fake, right? You're not actually dating. So…stop this," he waved his hands around, "affection."

"You don't hug your friends, Cisco?" Caitlin asked, innocently, glancing at Barry slightly behind him.

"No, I do not!" Cisco jumped when Barry threw his arms around him from behind and lifted him off the floor. "Man, I'm trying to make a point here," Cisco whined, as Barry dropped him, though they were both laughing by then. He turned back to Harry. "I don't hug my friends when they're _you._ How 'bout that?"

"Is that a challenge?" Harry asked. "We _have_ hugged before."

"Under extremely emotional circumstances. Bowling on a Wednesday night does not fit that criteria."

"You sure?" He stood up, causing Cisco to bolt. "Much too easy," he murmured, clearly pleased with himself. He turned back to Caitlin, offering her a hand. "Shall we?" he asked, nodding toward the counter where they had to go retrieve their shoes.

She let him pull her to her feet, and as they began walking to the counter, she had this oddly unsettling feeling. Her world was slightly off – something in it had shifted, and she had no idea what it was, or when it happened. In a way, it almost felt like she was heading for trouble.

And she had no earthly idea why.

 **XXXXXX**

"Could you have picked a date where we had _less_ opportunity to talk?" Harry asked, as they purchased tickets at Central City's classic movie theater.

"Give it a chance," she admonished lightly, accepting her ticket from his hand.

Harry had met her at her building earlier and they'd walked to the theater from there, which took about fifteen minutes (and it was perfect weather for an evening stroll). They'd been able to enjoy the sunset as they walked, watching it light up Central City's sky with gorgeous pinks and reds and oranges.

Among that colorful backdrop, she and Harry had talked about work, bickered about the directions of a few projects, and otherwise enjoyed each other's company. By now, after having gone on these fake dates for a month and a half, they'd already covered more serious issues, too. They'd compared past relationships and commiserated over how awful it was to lose a spouse. Harry had opened up about how hurt he was by Jesse's decision to kick him off her team on Earth-2, and Caitlin had given him some advice on how to deal with it. She'd also revealed to him that while she'd learned pretty well how to keep her Killer Frost side in check, her control still slipped sometimes and it scared her (terrified her, even). He'd told her that he'd research the issue with her and promised they'd figure it out; she'd felt indescribably better, a weight lifting that had been pressing down on her for over a year.

She'd known, since that first night at Jitters, that going out with him wouldn't be any sort of obligation or chore for her. They'd always gotten along well, but in the context of their team, it was often rare to have much time alone together. Now that they did? She could see him in an entirely new light. Gone was the friendly, but mostly professional distance they'd had with each other. (If nothing else, she knew this experience would leave them as much closer friends than they'd been before.)

The small theater near her apartment was playing a wide selection of classic sci-fi movies this month, and she'd been meaning to check it out for a while. She'd actually had the idea at the last minute, right when Harry arrived, and she was looking forward to their evening much more than was probably warranted.

Harry pulled the door open for her and they handed their tickets to the attendant before making their way into the appropriate theater, which was already filling up quickly. They found seats nearer to the back than the front, and settled into the middle of a row.

Harry turned to her expectantly and she realized she'd never given him an actual reason for wanting to go there on this particular date.

"Tell me," she began, "how do you connect with a date if you don't have many chances to do so, because it's a venue like this where talking will soon be extremely difficult?" As if to make her point, the lights lowered to half-brightness, indicating they had only a few minutes before the movie started.

Harry thought about that. "My first answer is that I'd pick a much better option than this."

"Too late," she informed him. "We're already here."

"Then I guess we have no choice," he sighed, overly dramatic. "We'll have to make out for the entirety of the movie."

Caitlin abruptly laughed – wherever he'd been going, she hadn't expected that (and he'd gotten progressively more comfortable joking around with her the more time went on – she really liked it, actually). "That's a thing on Earth-2, as well, huh?"

"I'm guessing it's a thing everywhere," he said.

"It would be one way to go," she agreed, and before he could speak, she added, "but not the way we're going. Mostly because we're not in high school."

"For the record, I wouldn't be opposed," he said, and Caitlin glanced away _just_ in case there was a hint of a blush on her face that the dim lighting couldn't hide. "And I still haven't gotten a real answer on this date, by the way."

She turned back to him. "Based on my mood earlier, this was the perfect way to end my day. I've been meaning to come here for a while, and also…sometimes it's simply nice to have a carefree evening with someone. Not everything has to be exciting. Dating can be pretty low-key, if you want." She smiled at him, eyes sparkling. "Sometimes just spending a quiet evening with someone, doing something you both enjoy, is enough of a connection."

He was clearly thinking that over. "I suppose you're right."

She decided she might as well tell him what she was thinking – he always thrived on positive encouragement. "You're getting much better at this, Harry. When we first started, you were much more reserved and careful and…well, you."

He looked down at her with a mild glare. "Thanks?"

"Not in a bad way," she said, struggling to try and explain. "You seem happier now. More open and less guarded. Like you're actually enjoying this process, most of the time."

"That's because I _am_ enjoying it," he confirmed.

"Good, because that's the kind of attitude you want your dates to see."

He cleared his throat, glancing around the auditorium. "Right. Exactly. It's definitely helped me to warm up to the idea of doing this again. With…" _someone else_. Just the idea had him feeling vaguely ill. When he noticed Caitlin watching him curiously, he finished, "With whoever I happen to meet."

Caitlin forced a smile in his direction, hoping he didn't notice. She found she had to remind herself often that even though they were 'dating', none of this was real. The whole reason they were doing this was so that he could go out into this world and find someone he wanted to _actually_ date. Maybe spend his entire life with.

She was just…a placeholder.

Her heart actually sank at that last thought, and she slid down in her seat a little. Maybe when this was over, she should consider doing what he planned to do all along: venture out into the world and find someone to date for real…though even the idea of that was so distasteful that she immediately put it out of her mind.

To her immense relief, that was when the movie began, giving her a welcome reprieve from the morose direction her thoughts had been going.

She and Harry traded the occasional joke or comment about the movie, but other than that, it was a very pleasant hour and a half wherein she was able to lose herself in a story that had been written before either of them were even born.

When they left and began walking back to her apartment, Harry admitted, "I rather enjoyed that film. And the evening, as a whole."

"You sound surprised."

"I am. Movies aren't a typical date where I'm from. They're more something that you do with friends or family. Because, as you pointed out, there's not much opportunity to talk."

"A lot of people here use movies as an easy date _because_ there's not much work you have to put into it," Caitlin said. "It's especially popular early on, when you don't know someone that well and want to avoid awkwardness or stilted conversations."

"But early on is the time people need to talk the most," he said, confused. "How else will you know if you're compatible?"

"I happen to agree with you. You've probably noticed that people on this Earth truly hate being uncomfortable, and that goes double when you're on a date. Going to see a movie is an easy way out of that. It's also a great option if you don't really want to be there."

"Why would I go on a date with someone I didn't want to be with?"

"Sometimes you get stuck," she said, trying to explain. "If you're set up, or going on a date to be polite, like as a friend's wingman. Or if things started well then got progressively worse, but you don't want to hurt someone's feelings –" She glanced over at him, adding with a teasing smile, "If that's a concern of yours."

"Funny," he mock-glared. "I know how to avoid hurting people's feelings." At her look, he amended, " _Most_ of the time. And I wouldn't go out with someone out of obligation. Or pity. It'd be a disservice to us both."

"Yeah, I know you're not that type," she said, edging slightly closer to him. "You're one of the good ones, Harry, and I appreciate that. So will whoever you end up with. If she knows what's good for her. If she doesn't – send her my way, I'll straighten her out."

"I'll remember that," he said, in a tone she couldn't exactly name. "I've spent a lot of time on this Earth over the past couple years, and I'm still finding things that surprise me." _Not only things…but people, too. Some people continuously surprised him_.

Her eyes had lit up. "Doesn't that make it exciting? A whole new Earth to explore…it must be so fascinating for you."

"You're definitely right about that. Sometimes I don't like the changes between our Earths, but sometimes…" He looked down at her again, as if contemplating something, and then linked his arm with hers. "I'm immensely grateful for them."

"Yeah?" Her tone was curious, clearly wanting an explanation.

He shrugged and nodded in answer, deliberately not saying anything more on the topic. Because honestly, his own feelings were confusing him more by the day. He'd always liked Caitlin as a friend, but lately he was starting to think he liked her more than he should. Maybe a _lot_ more. And whenever he thought about dating anyone in the future, for _real_ , she was the only person who seemed to fit into that picture.

Was going on these 'dates' affecting how he viewed her, or would his changing feelings have come about naturally, no matter what? Would it stop once they ended this whole thing? He had no idea, but the one thing he did know was that he wanted to keep spending time with her, in whatever capacity possible. And to that end, he was going to hold off on saying anything until he had more clarity on the situation. (Clarity that – more often than not – he was only finding when he was with her.)

"Dating is…different here," he found himself saying, in only a slight change of subject, as they continued walking towards her apartment. "On my Earth it's a more formal endeavor."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not as spontaneous. It's more meticulously planned. People take it very seriously."

"You must love that."

"It suits me, for sure. Here, there are less rules and the rules that there _are_? Well, they're mostly unspoken, to my never-ending frustration. Anything can be a date here! It's very strange."

"Why is it different where you're from?"

"Dating is usually about finding a long-term partner. Someone to marry, or have children with. To spend your life with – in that regard it's the same as here, mostly. It's just that…you people approach it in a different way. I mean, those are serious goals, and some of the most important decisions that we make in our lives. The dating culture on my Earth reflects that more, I think."

"I agree with all your points," she said, "and people take it seriously here, too, especially if they're looking for a long-term relationship. But we also date for _fun_ , Harry." She tugged on his arm in emphasis. "Dating's whatever you want it to be. It can be serious, or it can be a casual, enjoyable time, and…shouldn't it be? If you're looking to spend the next fifty years with someone, shouldn't it be someone you have fun with? Someone who makes you laugh?" She stared off into space. "Ronnie made me laugh."

He let silence fall for a minute, and when she said nothing more, he gathered that she didn't want to speak further on that topic but had simply been dwelling on some happy memories of a time long past.

"You make me laugh," he told her, quietly.

"I'm glad," she said. "You make me laugh, too. As improbable as that is…"

He nudged her, but she couldn't go far since they were still arm-in-arm. "The dating cultures are different, Snow, that's all. Not immeasurably so, but enough that it's taken some getting used to."

"For what it's worth? You're perfectly fine at it, Harry. I've said it many times, but you don't really need me. You never did."

"You are definitely wrong on that front," he told her. "In more ways than one."

She sent him a brilliant smile in response. "So what do you think?" she asked, and his thoughts had drifted far enough from their original conversation that he had no idea what she was referring to. His expression must have said as much, since she clarified, "About dating on this Earth? Do you like it or hate it? Can you see yourself doing this here with…someone you liked? Or would you rather…" She glanced away. "Would you rather go back to Earth-2 eventually and find someone there?"

"I think," he carefully began, "that while it's different, I could get used to it here. In fact, I think I might even like it better."

"Does that mean that you…" she steadied herself by taking a deep breath, "that you might stay?"

"Cisco said he wanted me to," he told her, by way of an answer. "He's the only one who's actually asked me, though."

"Don't expect me to ask because I won't," she said, voice unnaturally tight. Before he could ask if she was upset with him about something, she continued, "I'll tell you, instead. Stay, Harry." She wasn't looking at him, but the severity of her tone spoke volumes more than the words themselves. "Stay," she repeated, turning a formidable glare on him, "or risk me coming after you and dragging you back here."

He came to a stop, turning to face her. "Is that a threat?"

"Yes," she said, simply, staring at him in challenge. "You can't keep doing this to – to us. Coming back here only to leave again and we never…we never know when, or if, you'll be back. I just want…" She sighed. "I want you to stay, alright?"

He moved closer to her, lowering his voice. "That almost sounds like a question, Snow. And I thought you weren't going to ask."

"If I did," she relented, "would it make a difference?"

He rocked back on his heels, genuinely surprised at the seriousness of her question, at the hint of desperation he heard in it. And the look on her face…

He'd cared for everyone here, since shortly after he'd met them. (Too soon, he'd thought, back then. How could he feel so inextricably connected to them after such a short amount of time?) And after they'd forgiven him for his ulterior motives in the beginning, it had soon become clear that they cared for him in return. But despite how well he fit into their team during his visits, he'd never felt he was truly _needed_ here. Not in the kind of way that would compel him to stay.

But he was starting to think he was wrong. (That maybe he'd _always_ been wrong.)

"Things are better with you here," she told him, and he realized she must have taken his silence as not having decided, and was now arguing her case. "Our team is better with you. And I – we all miss you when you're gone. So if you're wavering on what to do with your future –"

"I'm not leaving," he interrupted, fascinated by the way she relaxed on a slow exhale, eyes brightening and worry lines vanishing. "I already decided to stay, remember? That's why we're doing this." His next words were much lighter. "Also, I don't need you chasing me through dimensions."

"I was joking, Harry." She eyed him. "Mostly."

He laughed, even as he wondered how he'd left this Earth so many times. He'd always had his reasons for it, but right then, with her, he couldn't remember any of them. And even if he could have, he knew none of them were valid anymore.

"Snow, if I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?"

"I won't. I swear."

He lowered his voice, leaning in to admit, "Whenever I go back, I kind of miss you all, too."

Her eyes widened with obvious delight. "I'm telling everyone!" she declared.

He tried to look annoyed, but it wasn't working, for some reason. "You _just_ said –"

"Yeah, I lied."

"Well…maybe I did, too."

"Save it for someone more gullible," she said, grinning at him. Then she hesitated a moment, searching his eyes. "It's not that late, do you want to get coffee or something?"

"As part of our pretend date?"

"If you want." She shrugged. "But I was thinking more as…two friends who are having a good time with each other and don't want the evening to end."

He bit back his initial response, which was to say that sounded like a _real_ date to him. (And here, maybe, was some of that clarity he'd been looking for.)

"I would love to get coffee," he said, then pointed across the street. "And look, there's a coffee shop right there. Of course."

She pulled on his arm to indicate they should continue walking, and he realized with some surprise that they'd never let go of each other since linking arms after leaving the theater.

"So are you starting to see the appeal of having a coffee shop on every block?" she teased, as they crossed the street.

"I'm starting to see the appeal of a lot of things on your Earth," he said.

He didn't tell her that she was at the very top of his list.

 **XXXXXX**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Thanks for the feedback, I really appreciate it!

 **XXXXXX**

Caitlin jolted awake on her couch, knowing something had woken her, but having no idea what.

She sighed at the return of consciousness, which also meant the return of her misery – a pounding headache, intermittent waves of feeling unnaturally cold or hot, and a sense of unwellness that had only gotten progressively worse as the day went on. In fact, she'd slept on and off for most of her Saturday, trying to shake off whatever the illness might be.

She checked the time on her cable box: 4:57. The last time she'd looked, it had been a little after 4, so she hadn't been asleep long. She ran her hands through her hair, and that was when the buzzer to her apartment sounded – it must have been what woke her up.

She considered ignoring it – who would be at her place at this time on a Saturday evening? She had no plans… It buzzed again, and this time, whoever it was didn't let go. She stumbled to the door and slammed her hand on the intercom button hard enough that it hurt. "What!" she yelled, trying to infuse as much venom into the question as possible.

There was momentary silence before her mystery visitor spoke: "Good evening to you, too, Snow."

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Why wouldn't I be here?" he asked, sounding more irritated with each word. "Let me up already, it's freezing out here and it's starting to rain."

"But why are you here?"

He ignored her question, instead demanding, "Let me in!"

She glared at the intercom for a few seconds before hitting the button to unlock the building's front door, then pulled her apartment door open, resting her forehead against the edge of it and trying to remember if there was something she was forgetting.

"I'm glad you're alive," he said crisply, as she turned her head to see him standing in the hallway before her. Despite his unpleasant tone, there was more to it and…yes, he'd been worried. And what she saw now was relief he was trying his hardest to disguise as agitation.

"Why were you worried?"

He tellingly didn't refute her assumption. "I called you a handful of times and texted you twice that amount. You never answered."

She stared at him as she processed that, leaning more heavily against the door. "I was taking a nap, my phone must be on silent."

He was looking her up and down. "You're not even ready! What have you been doing all day?" He paused, as if realizing for the first time that something might be wrong, after all. "Are you wearing pajamas under a…housecoat?"

"This is a house…robe," she said haughtily. "I was cold earlier." Speaking of which, she felt much too hot at the moment. She took it off and tossed it somewhere haphazardly behind her, not caring where it fell. "Why are you here? Is it something serious?"

"Apparently not," he said, offering no other explanation.

She gave up, finding it too difficult to continue standing, and made her way back to the couch, falling onto it. He followed her in without an invitation (not that he needed one), and shut the door behind them.

When she glanced back over at him, he was scrutinizing her more carefully. "You look…"

She narrowed her eyes. "How do I look?"

"Awful," he answered, without hesitation. "Worse than awful, even. If that's a thing."

"Blunt honesty," she bit out. "We hate it here!"

"Tell me about it."

Against her will, she cracked a smile at his deliberate repeating of his answer from when they'd gone on their first 'date'. "And yet…"

"It's not an insult," he told her, simply. "It's a fact, and said as a matter of concern. What's wrong?"

"I'm sick," she said. "So why are you here?"

"Does this illness have dementia as a symptom?" he asked. At her blank stare, he sighed heavily. "We had a date tonight."

"A date which I canceled."

"You did not."

"Yes, I did." She fumbled for her phone, which was perched precariously on the end table next to the couch. She did a double take upon seeing she'd missed four calls and twelve texts from Harry. "Stalking me much?"

"Sorry that I cared when you disappeared off the face of the Earth." Despite his words, he didn't sound sorry _at all_.

She swiped the notifications away, and pulled up their texts – she didn't even have to scroll up past all his questions asking where she was, because in the input field was her message to him that she'd typed out…some seven hours earlier. She'd never hit send. Maybe she could just…

Harry's phone chimed and he pulled it out, staring at the screen, then turned to her with a complete lack of amusement on his face. "Are you serious." It wasn't a question, either.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, feeling her face burn and finding it nearly indistinguishable from how the rest of her was burning with fever, as well. "I must have forgotten to hit send."

"You can't cancel on someone when they're standing in your living room!"

"I technically didn't. I canceled seven hours ago." She slumped down on the couch. "You just…didn't know about it yet?"

"Snow."

"Can I have some sympathy here?" she whined. "I'm genuinely miserable, you know. The last thing I wanted to do this morning was cancel our date! In fact, I waited for two hours before finally texting you –" at his look, she amended, "– uh, forgetting to text you. I was hoping I'd feel better by tonight, but I realized that it just…wasn't going to happen."

His stance had softened at her explanation, and when he spoke, she realized why. "You didn't want to cancel?"

She cursed herself, blaming the fever for giving too much away. "No, I… That is, you need all the help you can get. As Cisco loves to remind you."

There was a smile playing around his eyes, but it didn't otherwise show on his face. "I thought I didn't need your help. That's what you love telling me."

"I've been lying!" she said, hastily. "To…build your confidence."

"Is that so?"

She nodded emphatically. "You're hopeless, Harry. Sorry to break it to you, but it's better you hear it from me than a stranger, right?"

"Your honesty impresses me, Snow," he said dryly, and she glanced away to hide another smile.

When she looked back in his direction, expecting him to apologize for bothering her (okay, probably not, he _was_ Harry) and take his leave, he was instead hanging his coat on one of the hooks by her front door. "What are you doing?"

He looked from her to the coat a few times. "Taking off my coat?"

She desperately wished for something to throw at him, but she didn't want to risk breaking the only things in reach – her phone and the remote. "I see that. Why?"

"Why would I wear a coat inside?" he asked, then ran a hand through his hair and she realized it was weighed down a little from the rain. "Besides, it has to dry."

"Before you go back out into the rain?"

"I'm not going back out," he said slowly, like she was particularly dense (and maybe she was tonight). "We had a date which you didn't cancel. Therefore, it's still on, as far as I'm concerned."

She set her head back on the couch. "How exactly does that work if I refuse to go out?"

"I don't care," he said, leaning against the side of an armchair, "but you owe me a date and I'm here to collect. I cleared my busy slate for _you –_ "

"Busy slate," she said, deadpan. "Of working late at S.T.A.R. Labs every night."

"Hey! Sometimes I…work late from my apartment."

"Your apartment is _in_ S.T.A.R. Labs."

"I'm not here to debate with you, alright?" (That was conveniently what he usually claimed when she was winning an argument.) "The point is that since you didn't cancel in a timely manner, you're now stuck with me."

She stared at him. And stared at him some more. Until her vision was nearly swimming and she almost forgot what he was even going on about. Thankfully, she loosely remembered the threads of their conversation. "For how long?"

He seemed to take that question much too seriously, from the way he waited several moments before replying, "Indefinitely."

"Well, that's deliberately vague."

"How about…until you no longer need me," he offered, as clarification.

"I don't need you now," she retorted. But she was lying through her teeth, because she was feeling worse by the minute and his arrival was the only bright spot of her entire day… And he was definitely concerned about her and that fact made her feel better even as the rest of her felt incredibly awful… And he was watching her like maybe all he wanted to do was take care of her and that alone made her heart turn over. "I'm lying. I do need you."

"See?" he said, air of victory infusing the one-word question.

"What if I always need you?" she heard herself asking, and was appropriately horrified. She inwardly yelled at herself to take it back or make a joke but her mouth stayed traitorously silent.

"Then I guess I'm never going anywhere," he said, as easily as if she'd asked him to do her the most minor of favors in the world (and not to stay with her forever).

"Really?" she asked, feeling tears spring to her eyes.

"Oh no," he muttered, tipping his head back and sighing. "I tend to forget how much you people _love_ talking about emotions. Every little thing is 'let's talk about how we feel about this!' and I can't take it, Snow." He leveled a look at her. "I can't _take it_."

"Just remind yourself I'm not in my right state of mind," she suggested, which was more or less true. It seemed she'd lost many of her usual filters – especially the ones she carefully kept in place whenever he was around.

"You seem the same to me," he told her archly, and she scowled, unsure if it was an insult or not.

"It's sweet of you to care, Harry," she began, "but you don't have to stay. Really." Because even though she'd (rather insanely) asked him to stay (forever, what was wrong with her), he shouldn't have to spend his night watching over a sick person because he felt guilty, or obligated. She didn't want to take advantage of their friendship.

"You _just_ said you needed me."

"I'm delirious," she said quickly, wondering if it might be slightly true.

"Right. All the more reason for me to leave you to your own devices."

"I don't want you to get sick," she told him, which was the truth, as well. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like she was feeling right now – she wouldn't have wished it on an enemy, never mind one of her best friends (and when, exactly, had he become one of her best friends?).

"Please, Snow," he scoffed, as if that said everything (which it didn't), and when she just looked at him blankly, he explained, "Like everything else about me, my immune system is vastly superior to most people's."

"How could I forget," she mumbled. Then she said, a bit louder, "I can take care of myself."

"Have you eaten today?"

 _Had she?_ "No. I don't think so. Wait, that's not true." She pointed at the glass on the end table. "I had some water."

His expression darkened. "Did you take any medicine?"

"No," she told him, and she swore he just managed to stop whatever he wanted to say in response to that. "I was going to, but I didn't feel like eating, and it's not good to take most medications on an empty stomach. Plus, I figured the fever would help fight off whatever I had. I think it's pretty high by now." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "But if my hand is hot, too, it's not that helpful in determining how high the fever is…"

"Snow." She snapped her eyes open, not having realized she'd closed them, and saw that he was sitting next to her on the couch. He put one hand on her forehead and the other on the back of her neck, and she involuntarily shivered from how cool his skin felt. "You feel like you're burning alive."

"I might be," she said, shrugging, and then realized she should have cared more about that than she did. At the moment, though, her world was mostly a haze and she couldn't find it in her to care much about _anything_.

"You know, as well as I do, that past a certain point, a fever becomes counter-productive. You're definitely past that point."

"Well," she frowned at him, "that's probably not good." She let herself fall sideways on the couch and shut her eyes. "You really don't need to stay, Harry. Just leave me here to die."

"I'm glad that you're not being overly dramatic about this whole thing."

"What is life," she continued, "but misery and suffering…"

"I'm definitely feeling that right now," he agreed.

"Why are we here?" she rambled on, and it was only partly to annoy him – part of her _always_ started complaining about everything when she felt this terrible. "What is even the point of living?"

When he didn't answer her after a minute, she looked over to find he was missing. Her first thought was that he'd decided to leave, after all…which was good, right? So why did she feel even more miserable at the thought that she'd not only driven him out, but that he'd taken off without saying goodbye? She picked up her phone, planning on writing him a scathing message about the cruelties of abandonment, but she got distracted reading through the texts he'd sent earlier. They started innocuously enough, asking about what they were going to do that evening and wanting to confirm the time. They got increasingly concerned, though, until the last one at 4:56 which said he'd just arrived and she'd better answer her door or else he was going to –

She shot her head up when Harry reappeared, dropping a literal armful of bottles and boxes on the coffee table in front of her. He'd raided her medicine cabinet and returned with what looked like every medicine she owned.

"You were going to call Cisco and make him check on me?"

"I figured he could vibe you. Or just breach in here, altogether."

"Stalker," she whispered again, under her breath. But she couldn't stop smiling at how much he cared.

"I had to make sure you were alive!"

"I am." She'd started shivering a little and knew that meant her fever was probably rising. "Barely."

He noticed her discomfort and his frown deepened as he rummaged through the pile to find a thermometer to throw at her. "It's like a pharmacy in there."

She hadn't made herself sit up and was still half-lying on the couch. "I like to be prepared."

He sent her an assessing look. "By having a dozen medications you don't even take?"

"I told you why," she said, turning her head to scowl into one of her throw pillows. "Also, the medicine cabinet is in the bathroom, which is like fifteen steps away, and it took enough out of me to even get to the door and let you in."

He took a seat next to her and pulled on her hand to encourage her to sit up. "List your symptoms."

"Headache, fever –" At that, he pointed at the thermometer she was still uselessly holding and she reluctantly stuck it in her mouth, trying to glare at him while she did so, but fearing that in her pitiful state it had little to no effect.

Upon realizing she couldn't really talk, he started listing other symptoms and waiting for her to nod or shake her head after each one. Yes, she had a sore throat. No, she wasn't congested. No, she didn't have a cough – though, she started coughing immediately after she shook her head. The thermometer beeped and she checked the numbers, staring at them in disbelief: 103.2.

When she said nothing, he took it from her and glanced at the display before tossing it onto the coffee table. "Seriously?" His tone was carefully measured and it struck her that he was actually trying to hold back his irritation. For once. "You let it get that high and haven't taken anything all day?"

"To be fair, I haven't checked my temperature all day, either."

"You _are_ a doctor, right?" He was much more upset than she thought was warranted. "Tell me that you're a doctor. Because I'm having a really hard time believing it right now."

"Watch it," she snapped, pointing viciously at him, "this doctor saved your life, remember? So I don't want to hear –" A wave of dizziness interrupted the start of her rant and she inhaled sharply, reaching over to take hold of his arm as the room momentarily spun around her.

"Okay?" he asked quietly, as her vision steadied and she glanced up to find how close they actually were.

She slowly shook her head no. "I feel terrible," she whispered, sure she sounded pathetic and not even caring that it'd give him another opportunity to lecture her on how she should have been taking better care of herself.

The only thing he did, though, was reach forward to pick up two bottles of cold & cough medicine. "These fit your symptoms," he said. "One's daytime, one's nighttime. Your choice."

"Daytime," she said. "I've been sleeping most of the day already and if I take anything to _help_ me sleep more, I might fall into a coma."

"You don't say." He held out the nighttime bottle. "I could use a peaceful evening."

"Harry," she tried to chastise, but there was too much of a smile in her voice for it to have any effect.

"Fine," he said, dramatically sighing. "Take the daytime stuff." When she simply looked from the bottle to him and back again, he tilted his head in question. "Really?"

"I'm sick," she said, trying to sound as helpless as possible (and she didn't have to try that hard, either).

She saw his fleeting smile as he poured the liquid into the small measuring cup that came with it and held it out to her. "Enjoy."

She downed it quickly – it wasn't abhorrent, some kind of overly sweet grape flavoring – but the medicinal aspect to it triggered a feeling of nausea that she hadn't felt all day and wasn't eager to entertain. Thankfully, it went away once she'd chased the medicine with some water, but it settled heavily in her stomach and she prayed the feeling wouldn't return later.

"What do you want to eat?" Harry called, and Caitlin only then realized he wasn't on the couch anymore. (She kept losing track of him, somehow.)

"Nothing," she groaned, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapping it around herself as much as possible.

He was suddenly in the doorway to the kitchen. "You said it yourself – you shouldn't take that on an empty stomach."

She pursed her lips. "Do you have to listen to _everything_ I say?"

"I'm going with soup," he told her, by way of an answer. "Not just because it's palatable when you're ill, but because it's one of the few things you have." He spun on his heel and disappeared, even as he yelled, "Do you ever go shopping for actual food? Your cupboards are practically bare."

"Stop trying to take care of me," she yelled back, even as she felt warm all over at the fact that he was willingly giving up his evening to do just that.

"The soup is heating up," he said, a minute later, as he came to rejoin her on the couch. "And I'm not _trying_ to do anything, I'm doing it. Come on, Snow, you didn't eat all day, you didn't take anything for your fever – what would you be doing right now if I hadn't shown up?"

"Considering you woke me, probably sleeping."

"Feel free to go back to sleep," he said. "After you eat…what little food you have left in this apartment."

She barely resisted rolling her eyes. "I was going to go shopping today," she said, which was actually true. (If she'd been able to find the motivation – it was always an iffy thing.) "Unfortunately, the world is against me." She smiled slightly at him then, thinking about all that he'd done in just the fifteen minutes since he arrived. "As far as dates go, this is pretty sad, huh?"

"We've had worse," he pointed out, and when she regarded him curiously, he explained, "Like every time we go somewhere and Allen shows up. Or Ramon."

She laughed and shrugged a little. "I hope you know that…"

She might not have finished her sentence if he hadn't motioned for her to go on, obviously wanting to hear the end of it.

"I really didn't expect you to stay…if that's why you did. It's not a dating thing on our Earth." She was struggling to explain, not sure why it was suddenly so difficult. "That is…no one would expect someone they were dating to stay with them when they were sick. Not unless they were…" She glanced down, uselessly fiddling with the edge of the blanket. "Already in a semi-serious relationship."

"I know you didn't expect me to stay," he said. "After all, you told me a half-dozen times I didn't have to."

"And you did anyways."

"Because I know you," he said, simply. "You didn't expect me to stay, but you wanted me to." After a long moment, he asked, "Was I wrong?"

She mutely shook her head, afraid that if she spoke, she might give away exactly how _much_ she'd wanted him to stay. (Though honestly, how much worse could it get after she'd already told him to stick around forever?)

"I wanted to be here," he was explaining. "To make sure you were alright. As for your relationship comment…" He shrugged. "I probably need help with that, too."

"I'm always telling you that you're fine at this kind of thing," she said, wishing he believed her. "And you can't have been too terrible at relationships before. You were _married_." She set her elbow against the back of the couch, propping her head on her hand. "I've been meaning to ask, how'd you convince her? Drugs? Hypnosis?" Giving him a hard time was definitely reinvigorating her. "Ooh, how about money?"

He broke out into a grin, both from her jokes and from his memories of his late wife. "I didn't have to bribe her to marry me, thank you very much." He looked at her askance. "Though now I know what it'd take for you."

"I'm not cheap," she confirmed, biting her lip to stem her laughter.

"With Tess, it was more like…she convinced me. She more or less put up with me. In that regard, she was a saint." His voice grew more distant when he added, "I never deserved her. I think that if I'd never met her, I would have spent my life alone."

The thought caused Caitlin so much pain that her smile faded, and she absently rubbed a hand over her heart. "You're not alone now, are you?"

"No," he said, something unreadable in his eyes, "but I'm only _here_ because of Tess." At her confusion, he explained, "Without her, I'd never have had a daughter. Who never would have been threatened by Zoom. And I never would have had to cross dimensions in an effort to save her – which led to me meeting you. All of you."

Caitlin sorted through that, realizing it made sense in a terrible way she didn't want to acknowledge – but it was true. She met his eyes, trying to imagine that version of her life. "We wouldn't have met. Can you imagine that?" She honestly hated the idea and couldn't picture her life without him. Not anymore.

"Yeah, I can imagine it," he said, slowly, "and I don't like it." His voice had lowered to a murmur. "Not at all."

"I don't, either," she whispered, rubbing her hands over her temples to try and ease the headache that was still bothering her. It had faded a little, but not by much. And she had a feeling their conversation was making it worse.

From the way he was watching her, it seemed like he was going to say something serious in response, but a timer going off distracted him. "The soup," he said, as if they both needed reminding.

"You're such a chef," she replied, as he went back to the kitchen. A few minutes later he returned with a bowl for her and some saltines. "I'm in awe of your talent, Harry."

"As you should be," he said arrogantly, setting it down in front of her. "You'd do well not to mock the person keeping you alive."

"Taking a little too much credit there," she said, carefully testing a spoonful of the soup. It was much more appealing than she'd thought – her illness must have been masking the hunger she felt.

"Considering the state I found you in?" He pulled a saltine from the package and studied it, like he'd never seen one before (and maybe he hadn't). "No, I think I'm taking just enough credit." He took a bite of the cracker and then nodded to himself.

"What is it?"

He glanced between her and the cracker. "Oh, we have these, too, but the packaging is different. And they're called 'squaretines'. I wasn't sure if they were the same thing."

She paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth. "You're making that up."

"Please, Snow. I think I have better things to do than make up things about my Earth."

"Really?" She fought back laughter. "Because I think you don't."

"Hmm, you might have a point," he said, waving the cracker at her. "In fact, I must have virtually _nothing_ to do…hence why I spend so much of my time with you."

"Every man should be so lucky," she insisted, as she took a few saltines for herself.

They fell into companionable silence for a few minutes as Caitlin ate and Harry studied the box of crackers. She had no idea how he could be so fascinated, but then again, if she went to a new Earth and so much was _almost_ the same with the smallest of differences, she might be intrigued by everything, too. (Maybe she'd make him bring her to Earth-2 someday.)

Harry finally set the package down, saying dismissively, "I can't believe you people named them after a seasoning."

"You people named them after a shape!" she shot back, and raising her voice triggered a coughing fit so intense that it actually hurt. Instead of moving away from her, like she'd expected, Harry came closer and gripped her shoulder much too tightly. She reached up to press her hand over his as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Jesus, Snow," he said, all humor gone from his voice, "don't do that to me. Can you imagine what I'd go through if I had to explain to the others that you'd died on my watch?"

"I'm glad you've managed to make this about you," she choked out, pressing a hand to her throat, like that might help.

"Well, yeah," he said, with a straight face. "We have to remember what's important here."

"You," she laughed, which unfortunately triggered another coughing fit. And it wasn't stopping on its own, one of those infinite spirals where coughing only made her want to cough more.

She didn't know how long it went on, but it felt like forever by the time Harry said urgently, "You have to stop."

She tried to tell him she couldn't, and then realized she wasn't getting enough air to form any words, and oh, that was the problem here. A slow panic was building in her, warning she didn't have enough oxygen and the only logical end of that road was passing out.

"Caitlin." He wrapped his hand around her arm, almost hard enough to hurt, and she knew he was trying to get her attention and provide a distraction. "Make yourself stop."

She focused on his words, on the pressure of his hand on her arm, and forced herself to physically ignore the urge to cough. It was incredibly difficult, but difficult didn't mean impossible. She fought it for a few seconds, then a few more, and finally cleared her throat before risking another inhalation. She leaned forward in relief when it didn't cause more coughing and her panic subsided. (She'd forgotten how _exhausting_ it was to be sick.)

Harry handed her the water she'd been drinking earlier, and she took a few sips before turning to face him. She knew she wasn't imagining that his face had gotten paler, and guessed that she looked much the same to him. "Thank you," she whispered, when she knew she could talk without gasping for air.

"You would have gotten there eventually," he told her, voice not quite as even as she was used to. "Or you would have collapsed."

"I still might," she warned, working on regulating her breathing. (It felt like she'd just run a marathon.) She slid sideways on the couch, resting her head on his shoulder, and shut her eyes. She'd decided to forgive herself this one indulgence, since he was the only thing in her world at the moment that was making things better. Also, he was incredibly warm, and nearly dying from a coughing fit had made her only momentarily forget how cold she was.

When he set an arm around her shoulders, she hummed in contentment, pressing further into him. Harry must have felt her slight shivering, since he pulled up the blanket that had fallen on the floor when she was coughing. "Have you thought about…"

"What?" she murmured, having no idea where he was going.

He took a deep breath, and she prepared herself for what might come next. "Killer Frost," he said, reluctantly. "That side of you has helped you heal, in the past…"

"I actually tried that earlier today," Caitlin admitted, feeling his arm tighten around her. "It didn't help. Apparently, while that speeds my healing from physical wounds, it doesn't do much to quicken the response of my immune system."

"Figures," he said, as she nodded against his shoulder.

"I have to fight it the regular way. So…about a week of misery, I guess, for the common cold or flu."

"I have a week of this to look forward to?" he sighed.

She heard the teasing note in his question, but was feeling overly sensitive. "I didn't ask you to come over," she said defensively, and thought about moving away from him in protest before deciding it was too much work to feel even more miserable. "I meant to text you." (Though now she was wondering if some part of her had subconsciously 'forgotten' to send that text, knowing he'd show up. But that was ridiculous…right?)

"No, you didn't ask me," he said. "But I'm here, Snow. We already went over this, remember? Besides, you know me, and you said it best that first night we went out."

It took her a minute to think back to what he was referring to. "You don't do anything you don't want to do."

"Exactly," he whispered, running his hand over her shoulder in a repetitive, absent motion. She relaxed even further when he settled back into the couch, putting his feet on the coffee table. "What were you watching earlier?"

"Netflix," she said, "and I actually fell asleep to it."

He'd taken the remote and was rewinding a few scenes. "What is this?"

She momentarily drew a blank. "It's about people who live in a small town where strange things happen."

"Now I recognize it," he said, and she felt him nod. "We have this show, too. I was always a fan of Ramona Ryder." That didn't sound quite right to Caitlin, but she didn't comment. He let a few minutes of a scene play and she half-listened to it, still not having opened her eyes. "Wait, I think that's Paul Reiser. He was in that nineties sitcom Jesse used to wear out in reruns…what was it called? _Crazy About You_."

She shook her head slightly, against his arm. "I swear, listening to you sometimes is like hearing some bizarre, alternate-Earth version of Mad Libs. You get so many things slightly off that I'm often not even sure if I heard you right."

"It's not me that's off, it's your Earth that's gotten everything wrong. And what are Mad Libs?"

"It was this game when I was a kid, you fill in stories with random words to make the completed story sound funny or crazy."

"Ohhh," he said, in sudden understanding. "You mean Ad Libs."

"I guess?" She wasn't entirely sure, but… "Mad Libs is a play on the term 'ad libs'. So I guess your Earth had it, but they weren't creative enough to come up with a unique name."

"How dare you insinuate that my Earth isn't as creative as your Earth," he chided, and before she could argue with him, he placed a hand on her forehead. "You don't feel as hot as earlier, but take your temperature again."

She complied, relieved to see it now read 102.5. "Progress," she said, as he nodded in agreement.

She settled back into his side as they returned to watching the show, with him occasionally making comments that caused her to laugh. As she became more relaxed, she let her eyes drift shut for longer and longer periods of time. She didn't know if it was the fever, or exhaustion, or gratitude, or…something more that made her speak before she even registered what she was doing. "Harry," she murmured, "did I ever thank you for staying with me?"

"You didn't," he said quietly, "but taking care of you is something you never have to thank me for."

 **XXXXXX**

It took Caitlin over a week to fully recover, and Harry spent most of it with her, including a few nights on her couch – mostly because they'd fall asleep on the couch and by the time they woke up in the middle of the night, it made more sense for him to stay than to go home.

She'd taken the entire week off from work and while the symptoms of what she'd had were gone, there was still an unnatural tiredness lingering over her that she hadn't yet managed to shake. It was now Monday morning. _Late_ morning, actually, since aforementioned tiredness had caused her to sleep through her alarm – she'd even debated spending another day at home, but made herself get up and go in because…well, she knew Harry would be there, and she hadn't seen him in three days. They'd talked, over the past weekend, but not in person. She had to admit it was strange to no longer have him around all the time. She'd gotten too used to it, never realizing how much she missed him until he wasn't there.

When she stepped into the cortex that morning, only Cisco and Harry were present, as usual. Her eyes sought out the latter, who was at a desk near the back of the room. He smiled over at her when she arrived, but there was something missing in it.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Much better than I was," she said, hoping that he heard the unspoken ' _because of you'_ that was implicit in that statement.

The next moment, Cisco was crossing the room toward her in some sort of crazed whirlwind. "Thank God you're here! I'm so happy you're recovered that I don't even care you're three hours late. And since I've held down the fort without you and Harry, who for some reason couldn't come to work without you –" he sent a pointed look at Harry, then turned back to Caitlin, "– you owe me."

"I _owe_ you?"

"Caitlin." Cisco gripped her by the shoulders. " _Caitlin_. You have to get him out of here. I can't take him anymore. I'm going to kill him."

She was distracted, watching Harry with no small amount of worry. He'd turned away from them and now had his head in his hands. "What's going on?"

"Do you want to spend your Monday helping me dispose of a body? Because that's your other option, here."

"No way," Harry called, not lifting his head, "I know murder is illegal here, too. You're not fooling me with that."

"We could probably just shove him through the portal, instead," Cisco was saying, as he eyed Harry. "Or I could breach him back to Earth-2. Whatever."

He took a step toward Harry and Caitlin automatically moved to block his path. "Cisco. Explain."

"He's been bitching for three hours, Caitlin. _Three. Hours._ I keep leaving the room and you know what he does? He follows me around the building. _Around the building_." He leveled a glare on Harry that the older man might have cringed at if he'd bothered looking up when Cisco spoke. "I can't do it anymore. I _won't_."

"I caught whatever you had, Snow," Harry accused, in a sudden burst of energy, which made everything suddenly fit into place. "If not for you, I'd be perfectly fine right now."

Her heart fell as she realized what she hadn't wanted to happen had ended up happening. He'd spent a week helping her and this was the thanks he got? She went over to run her hand over his forehead, sighing at how hot his skin felt. "You definitely have a fever."

"Thanks for letting me know," he said, tipping his chair back so he could more easily look up at her. "Medical school's really paying off for you."

"Isn't he so much fun when he's sick?" Cisco muttered, from across the way.

Caitlin hadn't take Harry's comment as an insult, though. Not from the way he said it. (And certainly not from the way he _looked_ at her when he said it.) She leaned against the edge of the desk next to him, and she felt awful, she really did, but she couldn't help goading, "I thought you had a superior immune system."

He obviously didn't appreciate having his own words used against him. "Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired, Dr. Snow. A _lot_."

She ignored the teasing, as her frown deepened in worry. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" They'd texted each other plenty that weekend, and he'd never once mentioned it.

"I knew you were still getting better." He waved off her worry. "You didn't need to be concerned about me."

"That is _not_ your call to make," she said, with a vehemence that startled even herself.

Instead of making a quick or witty comeback, he sent her an assessing glance. "Noted."

"You should have stayed upstairs," she admonished, surprised at how upset she was the more she thought about it. "Why even come down here?"

"I knew if anything would make me feel better, it'd be harassing Cisco," he claimed, and on the surface it made sense – it was the perfect Harrison Wells-esque response. But there was something at the back of her mind…

He'd texted her the night before, asking if she'd be in, and she'd said she planned on it. Of course, she hadn't planned on oversleeping, hence being late. And Cisco had mentioned Harry had been complaining to him for hours already that morning…

When she spoke, she wasn't asking: "You came down here to see me."

He didn't bother trying to deny it. "I wanted to make sure you were okay. _Really_ okay. I haven't seen you in a few days, after all." She breathed in slowly, wanting to say something in response to that (and having _no_ idea what), but he was still talking. "Then you had to go and be late. Leaving me to spend the morning with the most uncaring, unsympathetic –"

"Caitlin," Cisco loudly cut him off, uninterested in hearing another barrage of insults from Harry. "You. Owe. Me." He pointed between her and Harry, then at the doorway. "If he stays here any longer I won't be held accountable for my actions. Besides, you two are a couple now –"

"What?" they both asked, simultaneously.

"Some kind of weird couple that's not really a couple," Cisco explained, waving away the words like they weren't his focus. "But you spend all your free time together and that, Caitlin, more than qualifies you to take him far away from me."

"It _is_ her fault that I'm sick," Harry repeated, as he got back to one of his favorite pastimes: complaining.

"It's both of your faults for spending so much time together," Cisco told them. "Don't say I didn't warn you both."

"I thought I minimized the risks," Harry was saying. "And we only slept together a few times."

Cisco fumbled with his cup of coffee, nearly spilling it all over himself. "You _what_?"

" _Slept_ ," Caitlin stressed to Cisco, "as in actual sleep. And you," she turned to Harry, "don't pretend you don't know what that idiom almost always means on our planet and what Cisco would think."

"That's where you're wrong, Snow," he countered, "in believing that I'd ever care what Cisco thinks."

Well, he did have a point there. "Come on," she told him, gesturing toward the door. "I'll walk you back to your rooms. And if you play your cards right, I'll stay with you for a while."

"A while?" He shook his head, indicating that wasn't good enough. "No, you owe me what I gave you, so at least seven days."

They left the cortex, ignoring Cisco calling after them that he didn't want to see Harry until he was 100% recovered.

"I can't believe you were with me that long," she murmured. He hadn't been there all the time, of course, but for the vast majority of it he'd made her meals, and doled out medicine, and otherwise kept her comfortable. And none of that took into account the most important thing, in her mind, which was that his company had turned what should have been a horrible week into one that, in hindsight, wasn't so bad. In fact, she credited him with helping her recover more quickly than she otherwise would have, and had told him as much several times.

She didn't know exactly what was happening to her, but she had a pretty good guess. And it was making her question everything, because even though it was obvious that Harry cared about her (loved her, even), she had no idea if his feelings ever strayed toward anything romantic, or if all he felt was an increasingly close friendship. After all, he'd had numerous opportunities to say something and hadn't. But then again…neither had she.

She considered saying something right then, as they made their way through S.T.A.R. Labs, but decided against it. It wasn't fair to put him on the spot now, when he was coming down with whatever she'd had. She'd wait until they were both completely over this illness, maybe go on a couple more dates, and see what happened. If he never seemed to want more, she'd step away and end this entire thing. (Even if the mere idea of doing so left her with an emptiness that she didn't know how she'd get past.)

She was lost in thought for so long that they reached his apartment on the topmost floor of S.T.A.R. Labs before she realized it. Harry turned to her as he opened the door, rubbing his hands over his face, weary enough that she could tell he felt awful. "I was mostly kidding, Snow. I'll be fine by myself – I'm not as sick as you were and I'll admit that I exaggerated a little just to annoy Cisco. You don't have to stay."

"I don't have to stay, but I want to," she said, echoing what he'd told her a few times that past week. "And I'm going to."

A short time later, after she'd made them some lunch and tried to make him as comfortable as possible, they found themselves on his couch, in a nearly identical manner to how they'd spent most of the prior week. He was leaning back into the cushions and she was curled up against him. The tiredness from getting over her illness had returned full force and she was fighting to stay awake in the quiet apartment that held only the low hum of the TV across from them.

Despite not wanting to touch upon exactly what was happening between them, not right that moment, there was something she wanted to tell him, because it was true. And maybe the first step towards anything more had to start with her not only being honest with him, but with herself.

"Harry," she said quietly, "I'm truly sorry you got sick, and I hope this doesn't make me sound selfish, but I wanted you to know…that first day I was sick and meant to cancel our date?" She hesitated for the briefest of moments before admitting, "I'm glad I never texted you."

He was silent for long enough that she began to worry he might be annoyed with her – after all, her failing to cancel on him had led to their current circumstances, with him getting sick because of her. She wouldn't blame him if he was upset, because she probably deserved it. He hadn't moved away from her, though, so she moved closer to him, hoping he understood what she'd been trying to say.

It wasn't until a few minutes later, when she was on the verge of falling asleep, that she heard him whisper into her hair, "So am I."

 **XXXXXX**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Thanks for the encouraging response so far!

 **XXXXXX**

It took another week, and both of them fully recovering from their illnesses, for Caitlin to arrange her next 'date night' with Harry. Which wasn't to say that she hadn't seen him during the previous week – she spent a lot of time at his apartment to help him as he got better. She owed him that much, right? After all, he'd given up a lot of his free time to take care of her when she'd been sick. So while, to the average person, making him dinner and watching movies together and otherwise enjoying each other's company almost every night might have _seemed_ like dates, they really weren't. (And okay, maybe she was terrible at this whole denial thing, but then again, she'd never claimed to be good at it, either.)

It was 6:58 on Saturday evening when Harry texted her that he'd arrived and Caitlin jogged down the stairwell of her building to meet him, nearly missing the last steps in her haste. She pushed open the lobby door, smiling widely when she saw that he was right where she'd asked him to meet her, as prompt as ever. He was nothing if not dependable.

"I'm here." He held his arms out, as if indicating that he was doing her a favor. "Meeting you at 7 o'clock, just like you asked."

"Good evening to you, too, Harry." Her words were intentionally dry, and from the sudden light in his eyes, she knew that he'd picked up on her mimicking of their exchange from a couple weeks earlier – when she'd greeted him rather miserably while she was sick, and he'd responded with overly polite sarcasm. "Is that how you should greet your date?" she couldn't help adding, in mild chastisement.

He eyed her thoughtfully. "When she's annoying me, yes." Caitlin didn't say anything, merely crossed her arms. "Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "Good evening, Snow. You look…" He took in her appearance – faded jeans and a sweatshirt. Hair pulled up in a messy bun. Minimal make-up, or maybe none at all? She didn't even have her purse with her.

She'd narrowed her eyes at him. "I look…what?"

"…Like you just got home from a day of community service?"

"We're going to have to work on your level of compliments."

Truthfully, he thought she looked beautiful in anything. But he wasn't sure how a compliment like that would be received. (With his luck, she'd probably think he was mocking her.)

He deflected her irritation by asking (or rather, demanding), "Why do you so rarely tell me what we're doing ahead of time?"

"Because I don't want you to prepare," she said primly. "You shouldn't be rehearsing. I like to see how you act when you have to…go with the flow."

"You know that's one of my least favorite things."

She affected as much surprise as she could. "You don't say?"

He pointedly ignored that, running a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. "So where are we going tonight?" He was deliberately feigning annoyance (and he knew she could tell) because, well, he was never annoyed anymore. Looking back, he was inclined to say he never really had been. Sure, he'd been exasperated many times during the past couple months, but that wasn't the same as feeling genuinely annoyed. In fact, if he were caught in a more sentimental mood, he might even say that lately it felt like Caitlin wasn't _capable_ of annoying him (which he knew very well to be objectively false, no matter which way his sentiments leaned towards – and as such, it was a good thing he was rarely sentimental).

"We're not going anywhere," she informed him.

"What does that mean? We're going to hang around on the sidewalk outside your building?" He glanced both ways down the dark street, which was mostly deserted at the moment. "It's certainly a novel date idea, I guess. If not duller than anything else you've come up with so far."

"We're going to sit out here on the curb and talk," she told him, eyes much too bright. "Are you too good for that?"

"Actually, yes."

She grinned, clapping her hands together a few times and announcing, "We're going upstairs, Harry."

"I've been in your apartment many times," he reminded her.

"No, Harry. The goal is to get me to invite you _upstairs_."

He was pretty sure he'd gotten her innuendo, but just to be sure… "Upstairs? To your apartment? As in…" When she nodded, he decided to make a joke of it, looking her up and down. "I mean, you could have put in a little effort for me."

She hit him on the arm, hard enough that he winced. "That's not a great way to get in my good graces."

"Sorry. Look, I appreciate it, Snow." _Wait, that was probably a terrible thing to say._ "I think?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You appreciate it? You _think_?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, truly at a loss (and he was _never_ at a loss). He liked her. A _lot_. No, scratch that, it had gone far past like at this point. And he was confident he knew her well enough that she wouldn't casually proposition him – or anyone. (At least…he'd thought.) That meant he had to be missing something, right?

"I know you're doing me a favor with this whole thing," he began, carefully, "but I'm not sure what you're…offering here."

She ran her hands over her face, suddenly seeming to understand the problem. "I'm not going to have sex with you."

"Oh, thank God," he breathed – he'd really had no idea how he was supposed to react on the extremely remote chance she was suggesting some sort of casual fling, or friends with benefits type situation. There was no way he'd be able to fake anything even remotely like that. (Not without giving everything away.)

"Glad to know the idea is so horrifying to you," she said, trying for indifferent, but not sure if she was fully able to tamp down on the wave of hurt she felt at his disproportionate amount of relief.

"It is nowhere _near_ what you're thinking," he assured her, wondering how he could possibly explain in any way she'd believe. "It's just that you really threw me. We're friends, and as such, that was the last thing I expected." He purposely turned his tone much lighter to add, "All I meant is that I'd need time to prepare."

"Harry –"

"Okay, I'm prepared." He pointed at the door behind her, relaxing immensely when she began to smile. "Let's go."

"Save it, Harry," she said, trying to sound chastising, but her clear mirth gave her away. "As always, this is merely a test: try to get me to invite you upstairs."

 _Great, just great_. Her plans much too closely aligned with what he'd actually feared, so how was he supposed to charm an invitation out of her without giving away how he truly felt? Because while he _could_ just admit everything, he didn't only want to _say_ it, he also wanted to show her how his feelings for her had been changing. In fact, he already had a pretty specific idea in mind, and it certainly didn't involve telling her on the side of the street, during an exchange she probably wouldn't even believe because she'd think he was just saying whatever was necessary to pass her test.

She was completely oblivious to his newfound distress. "Let's pretend we've just been on a wonderful date after seeing each other for a while, and we're kind of heading in that direction, but haven't seriously talked about it. How would you let me know that you wanted things to…progress?" She must have seen the uncertainty on his face, because she clarified, "I don't necessarily mean sex, Harry. Maybe you want to come up because…you miss me so much after each date ends and you want to talk to me all night this time because you can't stand the thought of –" She abruptly stopped, blinking herself out of her haze when she realized he was watching her with undue interest. "The point is: how would you keep the night going?"

"Okay, I have to get upstairs. To your apartment." He crossed his arms, contemplating his options, and told himself to approach this in a strictly professional manner. (Which was increasingly difficult with the way she was watching him, wide-eyed, lightly worrying her lower lip between her teeth and…he had to snap himself out of it.) "To clarify, Snow – without breaking and entering?"

"Yes, Harry." She managed not to roll her eyes. "Without getting charged with a crime, how would you get upstairs? Again, we're assuming you like me – uh, your date – enough that you want to spend more time with me. I mean, her."

He noted the way she tripped over her words, but didn't otherwise comment. "Where did we go on our date?"

"Does it matter?"

He set his mouth into a disapproving line. "Context always matters."

That time she _did_ roll her eyes. "Fine. We went to dinner and a movie. We've been going out for…ten weeks." She hesitated an extra breath, realizing that was the exact length of time they'd been 'dating' – but he said nothing and she relaxed. "Now it's the end of the night and you've brought me home, and…" When he didn't immediately respond, she snapped her fingers a few times. "Go!"

"First, with that nagging attitude, I don't know if I even _want_ to come up," he said loftily, taking a quick step back when she went to hit his arm again. "Second, we went out with you looking like that?" He was studying her again, skeptically. "You're really making this difficult for me, Snow." He'd thought the joke might relieve some of his anxiety, but when her gaze darkened almost imperceptibly, he held his hands up in a semi-apology.

"You're about three seconds away from failing altogether," she warned.

He sifted through various approaches, reminding himself to picture her as some random woman. _Not_ Caitlin Snow. How would he try to get upstairs? (Well, certainly not this way. He'd always felt things like this happened naturally, usually with discussions beforehand, and had never thought about trying to take things to the next level on a mere whim. As such, he had no idea where to even begin – this Earth never ceased to both fascinate and frustrate him.)

"Okay, I've got it." He cleared his throat. "We should go upstairs."

"No," she said, without hesitation.

"Playing hard to get, huh?" He brushed off her rejection and tried again, purposely gentling his voice. "I think we should go upstairs."

"Let me reiterate," she said stonily, "hell no." (And yeah, he realized right then how much he'd actually irked her with the teasing about her appearance.)

He sighed and wondered how to reverse the damage he'd done. Maybe he wasn't being polite enough? "We should go upstairs. Please."

"Not _ever_ , at this rate."

"I said please!"

"Yeah, and you sounded like you were being tortured as you said it."

"I want to go upstairs," he demanded, losing his patience – and then was hit with a flash of brilliance. "Not to have sex, but to talk. All night. Because…you miss me. No, it's that I miss you. And…what else did you say before?"

Caitlin shut her eyes for a moment. "Harrison Wells. Are you parroting my own words from earlier back at me?" When he barely looked chagrined, she sent him her strongest glare yet. " _No._ "

"Damn it, Snow." He put his hand on his hips and actually, childishly, stomped one of his feet in frustration. "Let me come upstairs!"

She was about to inform him that he couldn't have been less charming if he'd _tried_ (which was surely saying something), when she saw a young couple had stopped on the sidewalk a few yards away and were watching them with mild alarm. (Fantastic.)

"It's fine," she called, waving at them and forcing her most sincere smile. "I'm fine. We're just role playing." Under her breath, she muttered, "That sounded a lot less sexual in my head."

Harry did a double take at her in amusement and barely bit back an enthusiastic joke in response, mostly because he didn't think he'd be able to play it off convincingly enough. He then turned to face the other couple along with her, and when they didn't move on despite the reassurance, he began glaring at them. "You heard her, she's fine."

For _some_ reason, his hostile demeanor didn't compel them to leave. In an attempt at damage control, Caitlin edged closer to Harry, linking her hand with his and making sure to send their observers another brilliant smile. Then she elbowed Harry in the side and hissed at him to stop glaring. He…well, at least made an effort to appear less annoyed and the other couple slowly waved and then walked on down the street.

Harry watched them go, wondering how worried he should be. "Now you really have to let me up," he said warily. "Preferably before the police get here."

She just smirked at him. "Consider your impending arrest as extra motivation to charm me."

He dropped her hand and took a step back. "Snow –"

"Relax, Harry. I'd vouch for you." A smile was building in her eyes. "Probably."

He was getting irritated all over again. "Do I really look like I'm about to attack you?"

Instead of appeasing him, Caitlin tapped a hand against her mouth in playful thought. "I don't know, Harry. Under certain circumstances you can look…dangerous."

"I wasn't even touching you when they showed up!" he was complaining, close to the beginning of an actual rant, when he stopped and rewound her words. "Wait," he tipped his head, "I look dangerous?"

 _Trust that he'd take that as a compliment._ "You _are_ dangerous," she reminded him. "When you want to be." She waved both hands at him, like that might help her explain. "You know, when you're being all…you."

"When I'm being _me_? As opposed to when I'm not me?"

"You know what I mean," she sighed.

Yes, he very much did. But giving her a hard time was the highlight of so many of his nights lately. "I suppose I understand," he agreed, giving in. "You do recognize the irony here, right? With that couple thinking you might not be safe with me?"

"If they only knew I'm a much bigger threat to you than you are to me," she said, unable to hide her delight. "I could freeze you like…" She snapped her fingers.

"Yes, that's true," he allowed, "but I was more thinking because I'm the last person in the world who would ever hurt you."

Her eyes softened at his genuine sentiment and she had no idea how the smile she sent him right then didn't reveal everything she felt.

"As for freezing me, sure. You could." He leaned closer to her, almost daring. "But you won't."

"Most likely not," she confirmed, barely managing to suppress another smile. "Not unless you keep irritating me. By, say, insulting my appearance?"

"Please," he scoffed, "that was lighthearted banter." When she started laughing, he sent her a wry look. "Besides, it's not my fault that you don't try to impress me anymore."

"I _never_ tried to impress you," she informed him.

"Now we've reached the heart of the problem!"

She pointed a finger at him, then thought better of it and poked him in the chest. "Maybe _you_ should have been the one trying to impress me this whole time. Or have you forgotten the point of our entire arrangement?"

"What, exactly, would I have needed to sell you on? My list of admirable qualities and extraordinary achievements speaks for itself."

She could only stare at him in genuine disbelief. "And mine _doesn't_?"

"Well, I'm not looking for a hard sell from you, but it might have helped."

A distant siren, getting steadily closer, interrupted her search for a quick comeback. Caitlin's heart leapt into her throat for a moment and they both turned to face the end of her street. After about ten seconds, a police car raced by on the adjacent road without turning. She felt the tension leave her and turned back to Harry, who was watching her knowingly.

"Worried about me?" he teased, pitching his voice low.

"Ha! You're _lucky_ they weren't coming for you," she said, rather snippily. "I'd have half a mind to let them take you away."

"Thought you were going to vouch for me, Snow?"

"I would have before our enlightening conversation these past few minutes. If you expect me to save you from the cops now, it'll definitely cost you."

He was clearly intrigued. "What would you want?"

She met his eyes, getting lost for a minute. She was beyond tempted to say something reckless. Something daring, that she couldn't take back. Something like… _You. The only thing I'd want is you._

"Earth to –"

"My price is probably too high," she interrupted. "I don't think you'd agree to it."

"Don't know about that," he told her, smugly. "I've yet to find something that I couldn't buy."

"Uh huh. And where is arrogance ranked on your list of 'admirable qualities'?"

"Wait, is arrogance not attractive?"

"Oh no, Harry. It's _very_ attractive." She made sure to infuse her words with plenty of sarcasm, because she didn't need to give him the encouragement that, paradoxically, she _did_ find his less charming traits attractive. (Because she found him in his entirety attractive, and more so every day.)

She was so far gone.

Before tonight she'd almost been able to convince herself that her steadily increasing feelings were nothing more than a crush – a slight infatuation that naturally developed because they'd been spending so much time together, often in romantic settings. Who could blame her for getting…confused? But there was definitely nothing romantic about what they were doing tonight: standing on a sidewalk on a dark, quiet evening. She was starting to get uncomfortable from the night air that was a little too cold, and she was hungry because she'd decided to wait for him to eat. And they had no plans to go anywhere or do anything other than be with each other – and that was enough. She didn't want to be anywhere else (or rather, _with_ anyone else).

How was it that she'd had more fun tonight with him than she'd had on any _real_ date she'd been on in the years since Ronnie died?

It wasn't their arrangement that had her feeling this way, and it wasn't the settings of their dates; it couldn't be. Through process of elimination, it _had_ to be him. So maybe she should tell him, just come out with it and confess everything in a dizzying burst. He might not even say anything; he might just step forward and kiss her until speaking was the _last_ thing on either of their minds –

"What's the point of this, Snow?" he asked, words slamming her back into reality so harshly that she sucked in a breath, not really seeing him as she tried to blink away the images in her mind.

"…What?"

"Tonight." He gestured at her, then himself, then the street around them. "What were you hoping to accomplish with this…test?"

She bit back her initial response, which was that she'd wanted to see what he did at this point in a relationship if he wanted things to become more serious. And that maybe, doing it with her, even if it was _pretend_ , would make him think…what if? _What if they were real_? It was ridiculous, of course. And she couldn't admit any of that – she cringed even thinking it. It was one thing to have growing feelings for him that were out of her control, but quite another to manipulate events to try and make their relationship feel more real than it was. The latter, in fact, just left her feeling ashamed.

"I wanted to see what you'd do, or what you'd say, to take things to the next level," she explained. "You know, make sure you didn't say something that'd be acceptable on Earth-2, but wouldn't work here." That part, at least, was true. And she hoped it was enough of an explanation for him to believe her.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say," he admitted. "This is all pretend, right?"

She sighed, hating the cold and sudden reminder. "Yeah."

He hesitated, almost like he'd expected a different answer, then continued, "As such, everything I think about saying sounds disingenuous in my own mind before I can even get the words out."

She leaned back against the brick façade of her building, turning her face up towards the sky (and feeling the same disappointment that she always did when she couldn't see the stars because of the city lights). "Maybe it's too hard for you to say it." Before he could speak, she emphasized, "To _me_." It stung a lot more to say that out loud than she'd thought it would.

"I don't understand."

She tried to brush aside the lingering thoughts that she'd never be what he wanted. "It must be difficult to think about what you'd say in a real relationship when, you know," she waved a hand between them, "none of this is real."

His expression cleared as he understood what she was saying. He was incredibly tempted to tell her _everything_ he'd been holding back so far, but reminded himself that tonight wasn't the right time, nor was it the right situation. Not when she might think, for even a moment, that he wasn't serious and his words could be misconstrued. There was, however, one wrong assumption he was going to fix right now.

He took a few steps closer, stopping right in front of her so that less than a foot separated them. "You always seem to forget one crucial thing about me: I never do anything I don't want to do. Not when it comes to friendships. Or any types of relationships, for that matter."

She could only watch him, having no idea where he was going with this.

"I know this has all been pretend, in a way, but what hasn't been pretend is how much I care about you. How much I've genuinely enjoyed these past few months. Not because you were showing me typical dates on this Earth, but because _you_ were the one showing me. I love spending time with you – I can be myself with you, and it's…" He swallowed, trying to figure out exactly how to word it, that line to balance without giving too much away. "It's such a relief to not have to put on any kind of act when we're together. We get along incredibly well, Caitlin, and you might have noticed that's not something that comes easily to me. With anyone."

"Trust me," she quipped, "we've all noticed."

He smiled briefly. "You've gone above and beyond what any friend is obligated to do for another, and I'm truly appreciative of that. By agreeing to help me, you've given me a real gift. You've breathed new life into me that's made me question everything I thought I knew about dating and relationships…up until now."

She was stunned, letting his words wash over, and they left a resounding warmth in their wake. "I wanted to help you, Harry. I only want you to be truly happy here, on this Earth, and I thought this might help you with that goal. So you're very welcome for my help and it never felt like an obligation." She considered saying more, but as wonderful as his speech had been, she hadn't missed that he'd carefully said nothing about any increasing feelings of his own. There was nothing romantic about any of it, simply a sincere thank you to her as a friend. "And like you, I've also had so much fun doing this. You have no idea."

"I have _some_ idea, considering I just told you the same." He was slightly exasperated. "Listening comprehension, Snow. You should brush up on it."

She smiled, shaking her head a little. "Will do, Harry. Just for you."

"So," he said, tone much lighter than it had been before, "how was that? Enough to earn an invitation upstairs?"

"After everything you said? You can move in with me, Harry." She felt her heart speed up a little at making a joke that hit so close to the truth of how she felt.

"Careful there," he warned. "Don't make offers you don't intend to keep."

She relaxed at his teasing tone, which perfectly matched hers, and wondered if he had any idea how important he'd become to her during these past few months – he'd _always_ been important to her, but now it was just…so much _more_. (And she'd take him in any capacity, even if that was only ever friendship.) "It's a yes, Harry. You passed. Flying colors." Her smile faded as she regarded him more closely than before. "I told you that you had it in you."

"I have it in me _sometimes_ ," he amended, and though he debated the wisdom of continuing, he couldn't help it. "With certain people. Like you."

"You've already swayed me, Harry," she reminded him (and herself, of what they were doing). "All you have to do now is extend that same genuineness to others, as well."

He grimaced, turning away from her and rubbing the back of his neck. "Other people aren't you."

She tried not to read too much into his words. He'd just said he was comfortable with her, so he must be having second thoughts about trying this entire thing all over again with someone he had no familiarity with – someone he didn't share so much of his life with, already. And besides, if he felt more – _wanted_ more – he'd had the perfect opportunity to tell her during that speech and hadn't done so.

Still, there was something about hope that often made it impossible to fully extinguish. As such, she decided to offer another tentative opening: "Meeting other people is the point of this whole thing, isn't it? That's what you wanted, Harry. That's why we started going out in the first place."

Harry inwardly sighed, not needing any more reminders that she'd only agreed to do this to help him. If it wasn't for that, they wouldn't even be together tonight. And every time she brought up the fact that the end goal of this arrangement was _supposed_ to be him finding a relationship with someone else, it made him second guess his impending plans to tell her how he really felt.

When Harry didn't say anything, Caitlin knew she'd been right all along, as disappointing as it was. Nothing about their time together had changed anything for him. She swallowed back her feelings, reminding herself that Harry was her friend and she'd promised to help him. She wasn't going to let anything get in the way of that.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, gently.

He realized he'd never replied to her. "No, nothing."

"Are you having second thoughts about dating? Because you don't have to do this." She wondered why he'd become so subdued, all of a sudden. "If you want to remain single, that's your choice. There's nothing wrong with it, Harry." She took a step toward him, voice gentling when she added, "No matter what Cisco or anyone else likes to imply."

He merely watched her, saying nothing, and she wondered if she was getting through.

"Only you know what would make you happy," she continued. "And I think you're the last person who needs the reminder, but I'm going to say it anyways because it never hurts to hear it: don't let anyone try to tell you that whatever you want – or whoever you want – is wrong. Even if you decide you don't want anyone."

He wondered, then, if she was trying to tell him something about _herself_. "Is that what you want, Snow? To be alone?"

"I did, after Ronnie and…everything else." For a moment, she closed her eyes against the memories, then opened them to find that Harry had never looked away from her. "I wanted to be alone for a long time. But now?" The temperature had been steadily dropping as they were outside, and she exhaled slowly, watching the air turn to mist and disappear before her eyes. "I don't think that's true anymore."

"In that case, you should consider dating again, too." He took a steady breath. "If you think that's what you want."

"Yeah," she said, smiling at him, but there was something off about it that he wished he could identify. "Maybe you're right."

"I'm always right."

Her smile brightened, becoming more genuine, and the troubled expression left her face, which meant his joke had fulfilled its purpose. He briefly wondered how things would have gone if he'd confessed everything to her tonight. Would she have been surprised, or said it was about time? Would she have told him she felt the same, or would she have gently turned him down? He honestly had no idea, because sometimes it seemed like she felt the same, but at other times…there was a very real part of him that was convinced he might be setting himself up for inevitable heartbreak.

"Technically, you did earn an invitation upstairs," she reminded him, breaking him out of his thoughts. She was already at the door to her building. "So, you coming up or not?"

He squinted at her, then looked up at her building. "Moving kind of fast, don't you think? We've only been on, oh…twenty-something pretend dates so far?"

"Wow, twenty is _fast_ for you guys on Earth-2?" She feigned sympathy while pretending to take his joke seriously – although they _did_ do things differently there, so who knew how much truth there was in his words? She turned to begin punching in her building's code. "I'm sorry, Harry. No wonder you wanted to move to this Earth."

"I'll have you know that my virtue is very important to me," he said, as he came up behind her, "so don't go getting any ideas. I'm not that easy."

In her ensuing laughter, she mistyped the code three times before giving up. "Not that easy, huh?"

He reached past her to enter the correct code, pulling the door open and standing in front of it so it couldn't shut on them. She automatically turned to face him, tipping her head back to meet his eyes. "Gotta work for me, Snow." He took advantage of their close proximity to lean down and whisper, "Not the other way around."

She inexplicably found herself slightly breathless, which was strange, since there hadn't been any overt implications in his statement. Just his usual humorous teasing, with an added dose of egocentrism. But the _way_ he'd said it… "I feel so sorry for whoever you end up with," she murmured, feeling her mouth twitch with the smile she refused to allow.

From the way her eyes were sparkling as she gazed at him, he couldn't even begin to take that as an insult. "Because of how much she'll have to do to win me over?"

"Because she'll have to put up with you. _All the time_." She cast her eyes down, sighing morosely. "I'll make sure we're all there for her, Harry." Glancing back up, she added somberly, "You know, for moral support."

He let out a light huff of laughter. "Moral support. Good one."

"You think I'm kidding?" She was going for innocent and probably didn't get there.

"I think if anyone needs moral support around here it's _me_. For putting up with all of you."

"Not fooling me, Harry," she declared. "You wouldn't have it any other way."

"No," he said quietly, and much more intently than she was used to. "I wouldn't."

Caitlin wasn't sure how long they stood there, looking at each other, but what interrupted the moment was someone nearby discreetly coughing. They turned to see one of Caitlin's neighbors, an elderly woman from three apartments down, smiling at them. Despite her advancing years, Caitlin knew Eleanor was pretty spry and still able to maintain her independence, as evidenced by the large grocery bag she was holding in one hand, purse held firmly in the other.

"I wouldn't have interrupted, but…" She motioned to them, or more accurately, the way Harry and Caitlin were standing in front of the entrance.

"Yeah, Caitlin," Harry scolded. "Pretty rude of you to block the door."

"Oh sure, it's me!" she complained. "When you're the one who chose to stand right there with the door open and then distract me by…by…" What exactly had he done again? _Talked_ to her? And that was all it took for her to completely disregard her surroundings? She needed help.

"By…?" he repeated smugly.

"Being you," she muttered.

"Again, hate to interrupt," Eleanor interrupted, "but neither of you has moved."

Caitlin could feel her face lighting up in abject embarrassment. And she somehow _still_ didn't move, jumping in surprise when Harry took her arm and pulled her aside, so she was no longer in front of him but standing next to him, instead. He kept his place at the door and motioned for her neighbor to go through.

"Can we help you with those?" Harry asked, indicating her bags.

Eleanor smiled at him beatifically. "Why thank you, young man, but I've got it."

Caitlin dropped her voice. "Young man?" She made a show of looking around. "She can't be talking to you."

Harry sent her a look, but before he could reply, Eleanor shook a finger at her. "My hearing's much better than you think, Caitlin."

By now, Caitlin's entire face was aflame and she obediently kept her mouth shut as Harry sent her the kind of look that tempted her to wipe it off his face. (By kissing him…again, someone help her.)

"Besides, when you get to be my age," Eleanor continued, "everyone who's not dead is considered young."

She'd never seen a smile fall so fast from Harry's face and it was all she could do to stop her laughter as she nudged his arm. "Hear that, Harry?" she said jovially. "At least you're not dead."

He promptly ignored her. "Have a good evening," he told Eleanor.

"You two, as well," Eleanor called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the building. "You can get back to your…staring."

Caitlin opened and shut her mouth a few times, but couldn't think of anything to say in response. And even if she could have, it was already too late, because Eleanor was gone.

She turned back to Harry, just to say petulantly, "It was totally your fault. You're the one who chose to stand in front of the door."

"No, I opened the door expecting you to go inside. _You're_ the one who decided to stop in the doorway and talk to me."

She put her hands on her hips. "I did not!"

"Caitlin," he beckoned for her to move closer, and once she did, he whispered, "you're still doing it."

"No, I'm…" She trailed off upon realizing she _was_ standing in the doorway again, which technically blocked him from going inside, too. She gave an exasperated sigh, spinning on her heel to finally enter her building, his laughter echoing as he followed her. "You're impossible," she threw back at him as they headed for the stairs; she figured Eleanor had taken the elevator and didn't feel like waiting.

"Only because I know you love a challenge, Snow."

"I was going to offer to make you dinner, but now I think I'll leave it up to you."

"Hmm, what ever could I make with canned vegetables and condiments…"

"I've gone shopping this week, thank you very much."

His responding look told her he'd have to see that to believe it. "Caitlin," he began, as they reached her apartment and she let them inside, "let me do this next time."

"What?" she asked absently, tossing her keys on a side table. "Unlock the door?"

He shut his eyes for a few seconds. "Yes, Caitlin. Please let me unlock the door next time."

"You can unlock it whenever you want," she said, confused. "Do you want me to lock it while you go back out and…?"

"That's not – never mind. What I meant is next time we go out, I'd like to plan what we do."

She studied his face, realizing that if he'd asked, that probably meant… "You already have something in mind?"

"I do."

The simple way he said that left her intrigued. What could he possibly want to do so much that he'd outright ask her for the opportunity? "You know," she admitted, "I _had_ been thinking about asking if you wanted to take over, for a change. Guess you beat me to it."

"Nothing new about me beating you at things, Snow."

"Uh huh. Just for that you can consider it a test, Harry. I'm going to judge how well you do."

He seemed to think that over seriously for a moment before saying, "Fair. I'll definitely be wanting your feedback, anyways. I have to do a few things first, and I can't pick an exact day yet…let's say tentatively next weekend and I'll confirm it with you at some point this week."

 _He had to do a few things? What did_ that _mean? And why couldn't he pick a day yet?_ "Whatever you want works for me, Harry."

"Then it's a date, Caitlin Snow," he said, pointing at her right before he disappeared around the corner into her kitchen.

"Yeah," she agreed, pressing a finger to her mouth, as she slowly began to smile. "It's a date."

 **XXXXXX**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** So with my hilarious luck, between updating on AO3 and then about to update here...I lost power for 2 1/2 days. Thus the delay! But I finally was able to return home and therefore post this, which is the second to last chapter - I hope you guys enjoy it! Thanks for all the wonderful feedback, it keeps me going.

 **XXXXXX**

As Caitlin walked through S.T.A.R. Labs on Friday evening, she was struck by how quiet things seemed. Sure, she was used to the building mostly being empty, and she'd even spent her share of nights there in the past – but generally the latter situations were due to sudden emergencies, which naturally meant she had the company of her friends.

Tonight, however, the building simply _felt_ different, and she knew it had everything to do with her and nothing to do with S.T.A.R. Labs.

She'd been waiting all week for whatever Harry had planned for this weekend. To say she was curious would be quite the understatement; it was more like she _couldn't wait_ to find out. It didn't help that he'd refused to give her any hints all week, despite her constant pleading (and outright badgering of him) for clues. Unfortunately, he excelled at remaining stoic – even enjoyed it the more it frustrated her – and he wouldn't cave no matter what she offered (or threatened him with). As such, it had become one of the longest, most interminable weeks she'd ever had.

He hadn't even confirmed a day with her until earlier that evening, when she'd been about to leave and he'd casually asked (well, more like ordered) her to return in three hours. She'd been so surprised (and intrigued) that she hadn't even bothered giving him a hard time by claiming that she might have better things to do on a Friday night than to have a date with him on such short notice.

Because the truth was…she didn't have any other plans (and if she had, she'd have canceled them). The past three months had completely revolved around him and their arrangement and she couldn't rationalize away her feelings. Not anymore. She'd suspected for a while, but she'd only known for certain the prior weekend when they'd met outside her building; it hadn't been anything remotely close to a 'date' in the traditional sense of the term, yet she'd had so much fun that she'd been thinking of that evening for six days straight.

Somehow, this had become the most 'real' relationship she'd had in a long time, and whenever she thought about that, she kicked herself for letting things get this far. She should have known better (she _did_ know better) than to get personally involved in this – to let _real_ feelings seep into her time with him. She'd known going into it that the whole thing was about him finding another person (decidedly _not_ her) to be with. She couldn't have chosen a _worse_ situation in which to let her feelings get away from her: falling for a friend who was completely oblivious to how she felt and who would feel responsible and guilty if he ever learned the truth, because she was almost certain he didn't feel the same.

Sometimes, though… Sometimes she'd let herself daydream. She'd remember that _he'd_ been the one to bring up arranging their next date. She'd recall the careful way he'd mentioned it, almost like he'd been afraid she'd say no. She'd think about the way he looked at her sometimes, the way he said her name, the way he _was_ with her – because that had changed, hadn't it? She swore it was different than it had been before. And when she thought of the nearly two dozen dates they'd gone on in the last three months, she'd ask herself: _Is it really possible that he could have been there with me the whole time and_ never _felt anything more_?

And at the end of one of those self-talks, she'd almost convince herself that maybe… Maybe.

It came down to one simple fact: she was to blame for her current predicament and she knew it. She should have talked to him long ago, when she'd first started feeling more for him than friendship (because that would have been the time to end things before they could get too far, before she could get too lost). She'd just been…afraid. Afraid that he'd reject the idea of anything more (reject _her_ ) and put a stop to all of this.

(She didn't want it to stop. She hadn't then, she didn't now, and she was pretty sure she never would.)

She was so caught up in her inner turmoil that she walked right into Cisco when she turned a corner.

"Hey, whoa," he said, as they both stumbled to a stop and he put his arms out to help steady them. "Watch where you're walking, would ya?" The question was punctuated with a yawn as he studied her blearily.

"Same to you," she said, and they both seemed to realize the same thing at the same moment.

"Why are you here?" they asked each other, simultaneously.

"I was working," Cisco said, "and fell asleep at my desk. _Someone_ didn't wake me." His tone told her the 'someone' in question, whom he was vastly annoyed with, was the very same man who'd been the focus of her thoughts. "Why are _you_ here so late? There's not a meta-human attack or something, is there?"

"No, nothing like that." She felt suddenly self-conscious to admit the real reason, then shook it off. "I'm meeting Harry. At least, I'm supposed to. Is he around?"

"I last saw him when you left; he went upstairs right after. Did he say where he'd be?"

She shook her head. "He just said to meet him here at 8:30, but I'm not in the mood to search the building for him. Let me text him." She pulled out her phone and paused upon realizing he'd already texted her, four minutes earlier, right when she'd arrived. He must have been watching the cameras. "Never mind, he wants me to meet him upstairs. I guess that means his apartment."

"His apartment?" Cisco had narrowed his eyes. "He wants to meet at this time of night in his apartment? That's not unusual to you?"

"It's hardly midnight, Cisco," she scoffed, even as his words resonated; she supposed it was a little late for her and Harry to _start_ one of their dates…

"It's late for him if he's not working on one of his projects," Cisco pointed out. "Some nights he goes to bed at like 9. We've all seen it and we've all seen me make fun of him for it."

"There's nothing wrong with getting a decent night's sleep," she said, defending Harry. "You might benefit from it, since you _just_ mentioned you fell asleep here."

"I don't actually care what hours Harry keeps," Cisco claimed, while Caitlin suppressed a sigh. "My point is that _you_ should care, because this is definitely abnormal."

Caitlin had no idea what he was getting at and wasn't in the mood to entertain whatever theory he was about to spout at her. "I'll let you know why he wanted to meet so 'late' tomorrow, okay?"

She tried to move past him, but Cisco took a wide step over to block her path. "Caitlin. _Caitlin_."

" _Cisco_ ," she mimicked, wondering what his suddenly agitated demeanor could mean.

"There's only one thing it could be – he wants to seduce you!"

His words threw her so much that it took a few replays to even process them. "What?" She started laughing, wondering if it sounded too forced. "No. No way."

"There's no other possible explanation." He'd folded his arms and was attempting to stare her down. "You need to know what you're probably walking into."

She thought she might be blushing and hoped the hallway was dim enough to cover it. _He couldn't possibly be anywhere near the truth_ … _could he?_ "Cisco, that's ridiculous. We're _friends_."

She'd already lost him, though. "I wonder how seduction works on Earth-2? It could be much different from here." He pressed a hand to his mouth, seemingly deep in thought. "For example, on Earth-19, they do some crazy things. I mean _crazy_ , Caitlin. Gypsy has completely rocked my world." He smirked a little at that, caught up in some memory she could tell wasn't G-rated. "This one particular night – keep in mind that I didn't even know she was on our Earth at the time – she cut the power to my apartment and then she _broke in_ and –"

"Cisco!"

"I thought I was going to die," he said, nodding to himself, as if she hadn't spoken. "It was terrifying. And exhilarating."

"I really don't need to hear these stories."

"All I'm saying is you need to be prepared," Cisco said, getting back on track. "We know that your…icy side can come out when you're provoked. Harry and I have had our differences, but he's much more tolerable now, so try not to freeze him to death, okay?"

"No matter what he has in store – which is not seduction, by the way – I'm not going to attack him."

"Who knows what he'll do?" Cisco insisted. "What would your reaction be if he just grabbed you and, I don't know, threw you onto his bed?"

"Where did you even –"

"Gypsy does that to me," he explained. " _All the time_." His tone left no question as to whether or not he enjoyed his girlfriend's aggressive ideas of romance.

"I think if Harry were ever to try…seducing someone, he'd have a little more finesse."

"Have you _met_ Harry?" Cisco's tone was completely deadpan. "I think to him that _would_ be finesse."

"He's not going to throw me on…" Her words faded as she allowed herself to imagine exactly what Cisco had described. _Oh_ … _wow._

"Caitlin? Hello?" He was waving a hand in front of her face, new look of horror dawning in his eyes. "Why are your eyes getting glazed over?"

"You painted such a colorful picture that I couldn't help imagining it," she said, mostly to give him a taste of his own medicine (she really didn't need to hear about his and Gypsy's…adventures). However, if she happened to have fun picturing that scenario with her and Harry…

"Wait a second," Cisco took a few steps backwards, "you like him!"

"That's not what I –"

"You _want_ him to seduce you!" Cisco gasped. "I told you this whole fake dating thing was a terrible idea! Remember, that very first day?"

"You're being ridiculous. Because he didn't invite me here to seduce me." (Probably.) "And furthermore, I don't want him to seduce me." (Okay, that was a lie – mostly because it wouldn't count as seduction if she agreed to it before he could even _do_ anything to her.)

"Ohhh, I get it," Cisco said, laughing a little too loudly. "I'm still asleep. This is a nightmare I'm having at my desk." He'd gone over to the wall and pressed both hands to it. "This wall isn't real."

Caitlin sighed loudly, which caught his attention.

"You're not real," he said, reaching over to pinch her arm.

"Hey!" she yelped. "You're supposed to pinch _yourself_."

"This is a very life-like dream, I have to say…"

"It's not a dream, Cisco. You're awake and –" He reached for her arm and she quickly pulled away. "Pinch me again, I dare you."

"Do I want to know?" Harry asked, as they both whirled around to find him a few steps away, watching them like he really _didn't_ want to know.

"Cisco thinks he's dreaming," Caitlin said, as she absently rubbed her arm and glared at Cisco for good measure.

"I'm still not convinced," Cisco declared, and Harry took advantage of his distraction to pinch the younger man's arm.

"Ow," Cisco whined, "son of a –"

"Now you know you're awake," Harry told him briskly.

Caitlin couldn't help her smug grin to Cisco who merely mouthed 'seduction' at her, causing her to completely forget about gloating as she glanced back at Harry. She'd been sure Cisco was wrong, but what if there was a slim chance… She wanted to believe it. (And it didn't surprise her anymore how _much_ she wanted to believe it.)

"I thought it was odd that you got here about ten minutes ago and still hadn't made it upstairs. I should have known Ramon was keeping you." Harry sent him a disapproving look to punctuate that statement.

"Yeah, about that," Cisco was clearly remembering his earlier outrage, "thanks for letting me sleep in that incredibly uncomfortable position at my desk and not waking me."

"You're welcome. I figured you needed the rest."

Caitlin honestly couldn't tell if Harry thought Cisco was being sincere or if he was just playing along.

"I – you –" Cisco was sputtering in disbelief, apparently unable to tell, either. "Wake me next time!"

"How about…don't fall asleep at your desk?" Harry suggested. "There are plenty of empty apartments in S.T.A.R. Labs. Just sleep in any one of them. And actually, it's good that you're still here, Ramon. You can join us."

"Those apartments haven't been cleaned in – wait, what? _Join_ you?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

"I'm really not…I think we're getting into some strange territory here. Tell him, Caitlin."

"No, I think it's a great idea," Caitlin said, sweetly. She still had no idea what Harry had planned, but it certainly wasn't what their friend was thinking – the invitation for Cisco to join them had proven that. However, she was thoroughly enjoying Cisco's increasing discomfort – it served him right, in her opinion.

"As much as I hate to admit it," Harry was explaining to Cisco, "you have a lot of experience with this kind of thing, so your feedback could prove valuable."

"Feedback?" Cisco carefully repeated, looking between Caitlin and Harry. "You want me to…rate you?"

"Yeah, just overall. How I'm doing. Where I could stand to improve. I mean, a numbers system is fine if you prefer, but I'm really looking for more of a thumbs up, thumbs down type thing. I trust Caitlin, of course," he sent her a brief smile of gratitude, "but it never hurts to have an outsider's perspective."

"Again, I don't think it's appropriate," Cisco said, voice pitched unnaturally high.

Harry had already turned back to Caitlin, though. "Is that what you're wearing?" he asked, reaching out to touch her chenille sweater. "Why don't you have a coat? It's pretty cold out."

"You didn't specify how to dress," she reminded him. "And my favorite coat's being dry-cleaned, but I figured I could withstand the few steps from my car into S.T.A.R. Labs."

"This won't do at all," he was saying, as he shook his head. "Let's go." He motioned for them to head back the way he'd come from.

"Where are we going?" Cisco asked, cautiously.

"My rooms," Harry said, without looking back, since he was already walking away.

When Cisco pivoted to make a break for it, Caitlin grabbed his arm to drag him along. "Grow up," she hissed, under her breath.

"For the record," Cisco whined, "I'm really uncomfortable with this."

Caitlin just ignored him – she was pretty good at ignoring the ridiculousness of her friends, by now. When they reached Harry's apartment (with Caitlin literally having to shove Cisco through the door), Harry immediately disappeared into his bedroom. That left Caitlin and Cisco in the larger main room, which was mostly taken up by a seating area with a TV, couches, and a few armchairs. Off to the side, near the kitchen, was a dining area with a table and chairs.

Cisco made a show of looking around, then lowered his voice to whisper, "Doesn't _look_ like the apartment of a man planning a seduction. No candles…no mood lighting…no Barry White playing… But looks can be deceiving, Caitlin. I suggest you remain alert. Unless you're disappointed he seems to have nothing planned."

"I told you," she snapped, exasperated, "I don't want him to seduce me!"

"Sure you – oh." Cisco's eyes had widened as he looked over her shoulder, and she turned to find Harry standing in the doorway of his room.

"Am I interrupting?" Harry asked, and his tone gave absolutely nothing away, so she had no idea if he'd overheard any part of their conversation or not.

"You're always interrupting something, Harry," Cisco said brightly, as the older man rolled his eyes and held up what he'd gone to retrieve – a black zip-up sweatshirt with S.T.A.R. Labs written across the front in white letters, complete with their logo.

"This is for you," he told Caitlin, and when she silently asked him why, he explained, "I don't want you to get cold. We're going to the roof."

"The roof?" Cisco asked, before Caitlin could. "What's up there?"

"You'll have to wait and see," he said. "But first, Snow…?"

He held the sweatshirt up for her and she slid her arms into it, then he turned her around and zipped the front of it. She could barely suppress a fond smile at his chivalry. "I didn't even know we had these," she told him.

"Your S.T.A.R. Labs doesn't, but mine does. This is direct from Earth-2."

Caitlin rolled up the sleeves so her hands could be free; she hadn't realized how big it was until she was wearing it.

"Yeah, it's mine," Harry said apologetically. "I can get you one in your size if you want, next time I go back to Earth-2."

"I might just steal this one," she warned, tone light as she looked up at him. "You know, Harry, you might be the only man in history to try and get his date to wear _more_ clothes."

He abruptly laughed at that. "On Earth-2, the more layers you wear, the sexier you are."

"You're making that up," she said, one of her favorite refrains when he said something ridiculous (that might or might not be true).

"You'll never know," he said, pulling the hood up over her head.

"Harry," she complained, pushing it back, "I can barely see."

"I want you to be warm enough. Kind of undermines the entire date if you're uncomfortable the whole time."

"I'll be fine," she assured him, meeting his eyes. "I'm never uncomfortable with you."

They watched each other for too long, and right when it seemed like Harry was going to speak again, Cisco loudly cleared his throat.

"Ahem," he said, raising his hand as they both turned to look at him. "I'm still here. If either of you cares. And _hello_." Cisco gestured to his own arms.

"What?" Harry asked, genuinely confused.

"You're so concerned about Caitlin that you have to dress her up like we're heading into a blizzard, meanwhile I'm standing here in a T-shirt and neither of you even notices!"

"It's not my fault you can't dress appropriately for the weather, Ramon."

Cisco heaved a sigh and went into Harry's bedroom, saying over his shoulder, "Don't worry, I'll find something myself."

Harry clearly wasn't a fan of that idea, calling after him, "How do you not have _one_ sweatshirt or coat in this entire building?"

"I actually do," Cisco called from the next room. "They're all back near the cortex though, and I don't want to walk all that way." He wasn't close enough to hear Harry's huff of frustration at that. A moment later, they heard the sound of the closet opening and Cisco yelled, exasperated, "Geez, Harry, how many identical black pull-overs do you own?"

"Eight," Harry replied, without missing a beat, as Cisco returned wearing one of them. "And I'll have you know they're not black. That particular color is called 'monochrome ink'."

"Mono…what?"

"Chrome. Ink."

"It's black!" Cisco snapped.

Harry seemed unperturbed by the other man's sudden vehemence. "There are degrees of black."

"Yeah," Cisco scoffed, "they're called shades of gray."

"No, I'm talking actual variances in the color black. On my Earth, at that particular clothier, they differentiate."

"Did you just use the word 'clothier'?"

Harry glared at him. "It's a word."

"That no one uses!"

"It's extremely common on Earth-2."

"Alright," Caitlin broke in, right before Cisco could speak again, "of the three of us, which two are supposedly on a date? Because I'm thinking it's you guys and I'm interrupting, so maybe I should go…" She was joking, of course, because she never minded watching their crazy arguments (or joining in herself, depending on her mood). When neither man reacted to her empty threat (probably because they knew her equally as well), she took a step toward the door, causing Harry to grab her wrist and pull her back.

Cisco skipped right past what she'd said, entirely. "Caitlin, tell me you're not actually buying any of this. _Monochrome ink_?"

"He's probably –"

"I assure you," Harry turned to cut her off, smiling in a manner she would surprisingly label indulgent, "I am not making any of this up." He squeezed her wrist, which he was still holding onto, and when she studied his face to determine his truthfulness, he added, "I promise."

"I need to see a tag to confirm this," Cisco declared, checking the edges of the pull-over, and then trying to pull it up at the neck, twisting around to see if he could find one.

"Please," Harry began, in a way that had Caitlin automatically laughing before he could even go on, "where I buy clothing, they do _not_ have tags."

"I can actually believe that," Cisco told him, giving up his search. "Elitist."

"Oh sure," Harry threw his hands up in exasperation, "now I'm elitist because I don't buy my clothes at the nearest gas station and convenience store."

"Those 3 for $10 shirts are a deal and you _know_ it," Cisco hissed, pointing at him.

"How can you sound so condescending about clothing tags?" Caitlin asked, though it was far from a serious question. She was well-aware that condescension was one of Harry's default modes.

"Harry could sound condescending about…sounding condescending," Cisco remarked, obviously in agreement with Caitlin's silent assessment.

"It's not condescension if the question or statement merits scorn," Harry shot back, as Cisco said something under his breath about Harry immediately proving his point. "Tags are _annoying_."

"You're annoying and we put up with you," Cisco pointed out. "And they're called scissors, cut the damn things off!"

"It's not the same," Harry protested, shaking his head. "You can never cut close enough, so the edge ends up –"

"Cut straighter!" Cisco shouted, which seemed to stun Harry into temporary silence.

"Cisco," Caitlin chided, "I think that tone's a little unnecessary. You really need to…" she sent Harry a sideways glance, "…cut him some slack."

"Oh my God," Cisco muttered.

Caitlin wasn't done though. "Maybe cutting things isn't something he learned in Kindergarten like everyone on our Earth." She patted Harry on the arm as he narrowed his eyes at her. "Or maybe scissors are different on Earth-2."

"You realize you enable his most aggravating tendencies, right?" Cisco asked. "In fact, I think he's only gotten worse since you two started this…whatever it is."

"I don't mind," she said, grinning at Harry. "I kind of like arguing, actually."

"Then aren't you lucky you met me," Harry quipped, but the smile on his face belied the joking nature of his words.

"I am," she agreed, solemnly.

Cisco wasn't paying any attention to them, still lost in his airing of grievances. "Earth-2 this, Earth-2 that – we get it, man!" He'd spun to face Harry. "Our Earths are _not the same_."

"And thank God for that," Harry agreed, equally as solemn as Caitlin had been a moment before. And he was looking at her when he said it, which suffused her with that same warmth she was getting used to feeling around him (and only him).

Cisco either missed their exchange, or chose to ignore it, clearing his throat impatiently and waiting for them to acknowledge him again.

"I expect that back," Harry said, indicating the pull-over Cisco had 'borrowed'.

"Sorry that I didn't want to get hypothermia," Cisco said, shrilly. "Keep in mind I'm doing you a favor by giving you my opinion on whatever it is you have planned."

"Right. On that note," Harry gestured toward the ceiling, "to the roof."

He led them out of his apartment and to an unremarkable section of a nearby hallway, touching the wall in a few specific places which caused a doorway to appear. Stepping through, Caitlin noted that it was almost identical to other hidden areas around the building, and she briefly wondered how many there actually were. Just inside the door was an elevator that needed a code for access. Harry entered it while explaining the code was the same on his Earth – the date he'd founded S.T.A.R. Labs.

"Secure," Cisco remarked, wryly.

Harry shot him an unimpressed look as they entered the elevator and he hit the topmost button. "As if you couldn't have gotten into it if you wanted. It was more to keep out any casual visitors who accidentally wandered this way – though as you saw, it's nearly impossible to access."

"We don't have much reason to go to the roof," Cisco agreed. "Well, _this_ part of the roof."

It wasn't until the elevator opened and they went up a short flight of stairs, with Harry pushing open a hatch over their heads, that Caitlin realized where they were – though she should have known from the longer elevator ride. They weren't on the regular part of the roof; they were atop one of the pillars that adorned the roof of S.T.A.R. Labs.

Cisco took a few steps away from them before turning back around. "I mean, it's a nice view and all, but…what? Are you just going to sit up here?" He was looking at a few chaise lounges Harry must have brought up there, and it was clear he was trying to stay upbeat, but was ultimately unimpressed with things so far.

"I'm already regretting asking you to join us," Harry said dryly.

Caitlin paid them no mind. She'd come to an immediate stop once she realized how high up they were; she wasn't afraid of heights, but she needed a moment to adjust. Harry had stopped with her, linking his arm with hers.

"Is this okay?" he asked. "I probably should have asked first, but…"

"Harry it's…" Words failed her as she slowly looked around at the amazing view of Central City. The observation decks had some wonderful views, too, but none were this high up, and she could see everything in a 360 degree span. The sun had set a couple hours earlier and everywhere she looked was lit up with the bright colors of a thriving city at night. It was amazing and slightly dizzying and – "It's more than okay," she whispered. "It's breathtaking."

"That it is," Harry said, as she glanced over to find he was watching her. "But, while lovely, that's not why we're here."

He went over to a small circular table nearby, and it wasn't until he struck a match and tossed it in that she realized it was a self-contained fire pit. The chaise lounges were set up around it. "Come over here."

"Are you sure it's safe to have that up here?" Cisco asked, indicating the fire.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Cisco pointed at the large warning sticker on the edge of it. "Use only in open spaces. Do not use inside buildings. Or on top of them."

"You added that last part," Harry scoffed.

"Because it goes without saying!"

"You worry too much," Harry informed him.

"With you, it's usually justified," Cisco mumbled, then shook his head. "So your idea of a date is to sit around a fire pit on a rooftop?" He shrugged a little as he glanced at Caitlin. "Maybe it's an Earth-2 thing?"

"Never willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, are you, Ramon?"

"Alright, I'll bite," Cisco relented. "You finally going to tell us why we're here?"

"I'd rather show you." Harry pointed up at the sky, causing Caitlin and Cisco to tip their heads back, looking at…what, exactly? When they turned to him in tandem, with identical questions in their eyes, he just said, "Stargazing."

"Uh, Harry…" Cisco began, "maybe it's different where you're from, but here, the light pollution from Central City is much too bright for us to see any stars. You have to drive pretty far outside the city to get away from it."

While Cisco was speaking, Caitlin studied the sky which clearly illustrated exactly what he said. There was too much light from the nearby buildings to make out any stars in the sky above their city.

Harry hadn't said anything in response to Cisco, merely opened a box that was on one of the chairs and pulled out two pairs of glasses, handing one to each of them. Cisco frowned at him, but obligingly slipped them on when Harry motioned for him to do so.

"What are these supposed to do?" Cisco slowly put his hand out in front of him, flipping it back and forth. "I can't see anything."

Caitlin slid hers on, as well, and was instantly disoriented. "Is this some kind of joke?" she asked, because she couldn't see. At all. Everywhere she looked was completely black, and she wondered if the lenses had been painted over.

"Look up," Harry ordered, sounding both exasperated and amused at their reactions.

"But I can't –" Cisco abruptly stopped talking and Caitlin was about to take off her glasses to see what was wrong, but she happened to look up first, inhaling sharply as any thoughts of checking on Cisco instantly vanished from her mind.

"Oh my God," she whispered, as she took in the amazing sight above her: the night sky without any light pollution whatsoever. The glasses had filtered it out and the only thing left was the incredible view of a flawless black sky dotted with the bright lights of distant stars. She tilted her head back even further, overestimating how off-balance that made her, and she tripped back a step before Harry caught her by the arm.

"It can be difficult to orient yourself, at first," she heard him say, from somewhere near her right side. "They wrap around and eliminate your peripheral vision, so it can be difficult to gauge how far you're leaning back."

She turned to look at him, remembered she couldn't see him, and pushed the glasses back up on her forehead. "Harry, these are…" She really couldn't think of an adequate description.

"Did you make these?" Cisco asked, as Harry nodded. "How?"

"I'm a genius," Harry replied, simply. When Cisco huffed, he explained, "As you've no doubt figured out, they filter out certain wavelengths of light, which allows the user to have an unobstructed view of the night sky."

"Harry, that's…it's amazing technology. I haven't seen anything like this on our Earth. There are lenses for telescopes which help, but they can't differentiate between the spectrums like this. There's no suitable technology to do it yet."

"There wasn't on Earth-2, either," Harry said. "So I developed it. Years ago. Those are yours to keep, by the way." He pointed at Cisco. "But I still want my pull-over back."

"It's so warm though," Cisco said, sulking a little.

"Earth-2 technology. It makes our clothes far superior."

Caitlin was nodding. "You know, I _thought_ this sweatshirt was much warmer than any of the ones I own."

"It's supremely comfortable," Cisco admitted, with extreme reluctance. "Almost to the point of making me regret that I gave you a hard time about where you choose to buy clothes."

"What's that now?" Harry was looking much too pleased. "An apology?"

"Hardly!" Cisco protested. "You must have missed the 'almost' that I threw in there."

Harry scoffed, letting the argument lapse, and Caitlin took off the glasses, folding and unfolding them. "Harry, I can't accept –"

"You can, and you will. They're patented on Earth-2 and manufactured by my lab, so it's not like they're a one-of-a-kind item." He was glancing between Cisco and Caitlin. "So? How did I do?"

"Yeah, Harry, this is pretty cool," Cisco said – he'd put the glasses back on and was looking at the sky again. "I want to bring Gypsy up here sometime. Or…actually, we could look from anywhere with these glasses, couldn't we? She'd really love this." He pushed up the glasses to look at Harry. "You did good. And it's pretty romantic, if, uh…that's what you're going for."

"Caitlin used to go stargazing with her parents," Harry said, off-handedly, and Caitlin twisted her head to face him, barely able to contain her surprise.

"How did you know that?" she whispered. She was having trouble processing everything that Harry had put together – did he have any _idea…_

"You mentioned it once in passing." At her obvious confusion, he smiled. "If you haven't noticed, you talk a lot during our dates. And I do listen to you, you know."

She was struggling to remember what he was referring to. "When did…"

"We watched a lot of movies while we were sick," he reminded her. "And one of them had this scene of a couple going out into the desert to look at the stars. You said you used to do that with your parents as a kid. I think you might have been falling asleep when you told me."

She had the vaguest hint of recollection, but still, even if she'd said that… "I never told you anything more."

"It wasn't what you said." He took a step closer to her, and for some reason, she couldn't look away. "It was how you said it."

"How'd she say it?" Cisco asked, abruptly reminding the other two he was still there.

"Wistfully." Harry glanced at him briefly before turning back to Caitlin. "I could tell that the memories meant a lot to you. And that you missed those times. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together. You lost your father years ago and after that, your mother –" He abruptly stopped, eyes darkening, and Caitlin could tell he was forcing back the words he really wanted to say. "Your mother wasn't there for you after that."

"She wasn't that…" Caitlin began, before the words completely failed her. Because her mother _had_ been that bad and there was no point in lying about it, in trying to pretend it wasn't true. The two men with her already knew it, so there was no pretense to keep up.

"You deserved better," Harry said, and the words were quiet, but vehement. His eyes lightened somewhat when he waved an arm out, encompassing the sky above them. "I thought this might remind you of the good memories. And let you make some more, at the same time."

"You did this for me," she said, carefully. "This wasn't some generic date you threw together – you orchestrated everything about this. For _me_." She felt like crying and was trying everything in her power to stop it.

"Well, yes," he said, confused. "That was the point. Now, Cisco said he approves, but your opinion is far more important than his, on every matter." He ignored Cisco protesting that. "So how'd I do? Did I pass the test? I want to say that I did, but you look like you're about to cry and that could be good or bad –"

She cut him off by throwing her arms around him, whispering "Thank you," over and over until the two words seemed to lose all meaning. He hugged her back, carefully at first, and then tighter when she couldn't help it and felt some tears fall from her eyes. After a minute, when she was sure she wasn't going to lose it completely, she leaned back to meet his eyes. "Thank you, Harry. This means…you have no idea how much this means to me. It might be the most thoughtful thing _anyone_ has ever done for me."

He put his hands on either side of her face, brushing away some of her tears with his thumbs. "You deserve much more than this."

"Oh!" Cisco exclaimed, as they both turned to face him. He was staring at them in what appeared to be a mild state of shock, and seemed surprised that they'd heard him. "Oh, I just…remembered…I have things to do. In other places. That aren't here. That is, I have to do things…far…far away from here."

"You're making less sense than usual," Harry said. "Which is quite the feat."

"I'll see you guys next week," Cisco said, hurrying backwards and nearly tripping over a chaise lounge in his haste. "Thanks for the glasses. And the clothes."

"I want that back, leave it in my room!" Harry ordered.

"I'm keeping it, thanks Harry," Cisco yelled as he disappeared back down into the stairwell.

"There's something wrong with him," Harry told Caitlin, as he moved back from her. "Again, moreso than usual."

She shivered, reminded of how cool the night air was without him right next to her. The sweatshirt helped a lot, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of another person. She put the glasses back on, staring back up at the sky. She still couldn't believe he'd planned this for her based on one random comment she'd made weeks earlier. Her chest and throat constricted, and she was afraid she was going to cry again. The feeling, along with the sudden disorientation of the glasses, caused her to sway, but Harry was still right there and automatically reached for her.

"Sit," he said, guiding her to the nearest chair. "I don't plan to end this date with a trip to the ER because you let gravity get the better of you."

"Hilarious," she said, settling back in the chaise lounge, and heard Harry pull another one next to hers.

They lapsed into silence for a while, both of them watching the sky, and Caitlin felt such a deep sense of contentment that it nearly startled her – it had been a long time since she'd felt this…happy. But that was a direction she didn't need to go in, not now. Not when they were simply two good friends enjoying a nice evening.

"What's your favorite constellation?" she asked, trying to distract herself.

"It never occurred to me that I should have one, though I suppose you do?"

"Yes, and it's probably cliché, but it's the first one my dad taught me as a kid. I always liked that it was the brightest." She pointed towards where it was in the sky.

He glanced that way through his own glasses and then nodded. "Ah, right. The Large Ladle."

She glanced at him over the top of the glasses, not even having to make the accusation.

"I'm telling you, that's what we call it."

"It's the Big Dipper," she corrected, just to be difficult.

"Riddle me this, Caitlin Snow." He leaned over the arm of his chair towards her. "What's a 'dipper', exactly?"

She fixed the glasses before mumbling. "A…uh…ladle." He said nothing for a long moment and she couldn't take it. "I can't even see you and I can perfectly envision the smug look on your face."

"You know me so well," he said, and she heard the smugness in his tone, too. After that, he began naming off other constellations. Some were the same between Earths, some different, but he knew the histories of all of them.

Once they'd exhausted the topic and fallen back into silence, Caitlin got lost in her memories of nights like this with her parents. When her father would drive them out into the middle of nowhere and they'd lie on a blanket in the grass and watch the stars. Her mother would pack plenty of drinks and snacks, and they'd eat, and talk – they'd talk about _everything_ , not just the sky. And her parents had been in love and they'd been happy – and Caitlin had been so happy, too.

She'd thought of those times so often throughout the years, often telling herself she should go somewhere far outside the city and try to relive them. But she'd never wanted to do it alone, and every time she'd started to tell someone about it, and why it had meant so much, she'd never been able to finish. It had been easier, in the end, to just let it go and leave it in the past.

"Thank you for giving this back to me," she whispered, as she took off the glasses and looked over, surprised to see that his glasses were gone as well and he was watching her.

He shrugged, smiling a little. "After all that you've done for me these past few months…I wanted to do something meaningful for you."

She nodded, glancing away as she swallowed around the ache in her throat, and she had to wonder…had that been all this was? She'd almost been letting herself think that he'd done this because maybe he wanted to show her how he felt. That maybe he wanted more than for this to be pretend. But if he'd only done it as a way to thank her…

"It means a lot to me that I did this right," he was saying, as she turned back to him. "I was worried." He saw her confusion, explaining, "That you might think I overstepped. Intruded on something that was very personal to you, when I really had no right to do so."

She was shaking her head before he could finish. "Harry, you shouldn't have been worried. Not at all. If you do things like this for someone that you…" She hesitated, then continued, "That you _really_ want to date, then you're going to have no problems. I know you said that you're not great at romantic gestures, but tonight you've proven yourself wrong. Things like this? This kind of thought and – and caring? This is the kind of thing that would make…" _someone fall in love with you_.

If they hadn't already. (Which she had.)

A distant roaring drowned out her hearing as she stared at him and saw, _really_ saw, what had been going on this whole time. She thought she'd finally become honest with herself about her feelings, but this had been hidden even from herself. Somehow even _she_ hadn't known the true extent of her feelings.

"This is the kind of thing that would make…what?" he prompted, wanting to hear the end of her sentence.

"It would make someone very happy," she finished, since it was the first thing that came into her head, and it wasn't even untrue. It just wasn't the _entire_ truth.

"Good," he said. "You should be happy."

"I am," she assured him, putting the glasses back on and lying down on the chaise once again to look up at the sky.

He used the opportunity of her distraction to watch her, wondering if now was the time he should say it, just tell her how he felt. He'd been going back and forth on the issue all night. For most of the week, he'd been planning to do so after he saw her reaction to the date he'd set up (as long as it was favorable), but his determination had severely wavered when he overheard her and Cisco's conversation earlier, in his rooms. She'd been pretty insistent when she told their friend that she wanted nothing to do with an idea like him seducing her, and he'd almost decided right then to nix any plans that he had to talk to her and simply end things on a friendly note that he'd done this for her as a way to thank her.

But then…she'd been so happy after learning what they were doing tonight, and the way she looked at him, the way she hugged him… Well, the way she did and said _everything_. That was why he loved her, and why he had suspected for weeks now that she might love him, too. Her honest and genuine reaction tonight had made him reconsider abandoning his plan. Maybe he'd misconstrued what he'd overheard with Cisco, or maybe she'd been joking – and how would he ever know unless he talked to her about it?

So that was what he was going to do – the very next opening, maybe even the next time she _looked_ at him, he was going to tell her.

Caitlin crossed her arms and sank lower into her chair, oblivious to Harry's thoughts or the fact that he was still watching her. She stared at the stars above her without really seeing them because her thoughts were too wrapped up in Harry; they were _always_ too wrapped up in him, lately. It wasn't good for her to go on this way, and it certainly wasn't healthy, not when she'd apparently been deluding herself this entire time. She couldn't keep doing this anymore – not after realizing she was in love with him.

Despite what he'd done for her tonight, he'd had numerous openings to bring up the idea of an actual relationship and had never once done so. The only times he'd ever alluded to the _possibility_ of anything like that had always been in a lighthearted, joking manner. She'd even asked him outright, that night outside her apartment building, if he still wanted to eventually date other people and he'd confirmed as much.

She supposed she could just tell him the truth, admit she loved him, and then wait for him to break her heart…but she simply couldn't do it. The mere idea of setting herself up for that, after the wonderful night they'd had? After he'd done something this thoughtful for her out of genuine kindness and friendship? No, she wouldn't do them both the disservice of marring their evening by forcing him to awkwardly explain why he didn't share her feelings.

She toyed with the glasses on her face, needlessly adjusting them, and was glad they were hiding her eyes. "Harry, do you think it's time that…"

"What?" His voice was barely above a whisper – she had no idea how she even heard him.

"That we stopped this?"

The silence was deafening and it took everything in her not to remove the glasses and look over at him. She couldn't, though, not yet. He'd see the truth on her face and she simply couldn't handle him telling her that he didn't care for her in any romantic way.

"Is that what you want?" he finally asked.

"Yes," she said, "because as much fun as we've both had during all this, we're long past the point that it's proving useful. Tonight has shown that more clearly than anything else could."

"I'm not sure I understand," he said slowly.

She steeled herself, finally pulling the glasses off and turning to face him. She could barely make out most of his face in the flickering orange light from the fire. Maybe the darkness would help mask the fact that this was one of the hardest things she'd ever done – even if it was one of the most necessary. "I didn't plan anything about tonight, Harry," she explained. "You figured out what was important to me and then did all this on your own."

"Caitlin –"

"Which means," she interrupted, knowing that if she got too off track, she might never force herself to finish, "that you should go out and do the same kind of thing for someone else. Someone with whom you could have an actual future."

Her words killed any protest he'd been about to make, because what could he say after that? It was clear that any future she imagined for him did _not_ involve her. At least not romantically. And he should be glad she was honest with him about it, but all he felt was…hollow.

 _I don't want to do this for anyone but you_ , he thought. And more than that, he didn't want to do _any_ of this with anyone except her: he didn't want to go out with anyone else, he didn't want to stay in with anyone else, he didn't want to share so much of himself with anyone except…her.

In the beginning, it had been strictly about the process of dating. About indulging Cisco, maybe, who genuinely seemed to want things to work out for him on this Earth. And if he got to spend more time with Caitlin, whom he'd always been fond of (and one of the few people with whom he enjoyed spending long periods of time with, at that), then what did he have to lose? It hadn't taken long, though, for it to cease being about the process and start being about _her_. He wouldn't have let this go on for so long if it had been anyone else.

All of which left him with one last, awful question: what was he supposed to do _now_?

"Thank you again, Harry," she said, getting slightly worried when he didn't say anything in response to her suggestion that he should…find someone else. "I know we were friends before this, but over the past few months, I think our friendship has only gotten stronger. And tonight has been just about perfect." (Except for the realization about her feelings, and what the hell she was supposed to do with them now, especially if she wasn't going to have an excuse to spend time with him anymore. Which was probably for the best, anyways, right? Because why should she entertain those feelings when she needed to let him move on from her and find someone he could _actually_ love? Keeping him around for her own indulgence wasn't fair. Not to either of them.)

Harry mostly agreed with her – it really _had_ been a fantastic evening, except for the small matter that he'd done everything he could to show her how important she was to him and had gotten the clear answer that she didn't feel the same way about him. She viewed him as a friend, and only a friend, and he'd promised himself that if tonight led to nothing, he'd calmly step back and allow them both to move on. But now? Faced with the harsh reality of it? He had no idea how he'd manage to let her go.

"Harry?" Her tone was troubled, and he realized he'd been silent for too long. "You're being pretty quiet. What'd you think of tonight?"

"Tonight?" he asked, trying to pull his thoughts back from where they'd gone.

She'd turned to look up at the sky again. "Even though you set this up for me, you're supposed to be having fun, too, you know? So I hope you –"

"I did have fun, Caitlin," he interrupted, then echoed her words from earlier: "Tonight was just about perfect, indeed."

And since Caitlin's gaze was lost to the stars above them, she had no idea that – as usual – Harry was only looking at her.

 **XXXXXX**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** So this took me much longer than I thought - I knew, fairly early on, how I wanted this story to end, but I wasn't able to get it down into actual words until very recently. Many thanks (and much love!) to everyone who has left feedback on this - you have truly kept me going! And to those who are still here with me - I hope you enjoy the conclusion!

 **XXXXXX**

"Is it your goal in life to torture me, Snow?"

Harry had stopped short behind her, right inside the doorway of Jitters, which meant he unintentionally blocked the entrance – Caitlin had to grab his hand and pull him further inside, out of the line of direct foot traffic.

"I guess you saw the sign?" she asked sheepishly, though she needn't have bothered, considering Harry was now standing next to it _and_ had his arm draped over the top of it: **Singles Night, Thursday, 6-10 pm**.

"Oh, I saw," he said dryly, glancing down at it. "This is why tonight was a mystery, I presume?"

"I figured you…might be…resistant?"

"What part of that should I take issue with first?" He pretended to think. " _Might be_? Nah, I'll go with _resistant_."

"It won't be that bad," she cajoled. "It's our last date, Harry. Or…I guess not really _our_ date, since the point is to pick up other people." (And she didn't even want to be here, but they'd decided to end this and she'd figured what better way than to try and get Harry out into the dating world that he claimed he wanted to take part in? He was never going to do it on his own, she somehow knew that, so she needed to push him into taking the last step.)

"Pick up other people, huh?" Harry repeated, as he moved away from the sign in favor of stepping closer to her. "So you take me here. During _singles night_." His words were filled with distaste. "If I ever needed proof that you hated me…"

"Yes, Harry," she said, deadpan. "I hate you. That's why I've spent so much of my free time these past three months _with_ you."

"To help me," he said, carefully, and she abruptly realized her words might have given away more than she intended.

"Yeah, to help you," she muttered, turning to survey the interior of the semi-crowded coffee shop like it was the most fascinating establishment she'd ever seen.

"But you –" He cleared his throat as she turned back to him. "I mean…you enjoyed yourself, too? You've said as much. I hope you weren't…covering your true feelings for my benefit. Because you didn't want me to feel guilty about monopolizing your time or –" He broke off again, glancing away and folding his arms in a way that meant he was distinctly uncomfortable.

And for everything, even though she'd resolved to keep her unrequited feelings a secret, she never wanted Harry to think that she'd found their time together _anything_ other than wonderful. The past three months had been…they might have been the best three months she could remember in years.

"Harry." She waited for him to look back at her. "I wasn't lying. I've really enjoyed my time with you. And all I want is for you to be happy." _Even if it's not with me_. And wasn't that the irony of the whole thing? That she loved him enough to want to let him go and find his own happiness with someone else. (Someone who wasn't her.)

A (perhaps newly-formed) couple brushed by her and Harry as they exited the coffee shop, and Caitlin swallowed around the ache in her throat. (Because _damn_ did it hurt a lot more when she was facing the reality of letting go instead of merely imagining it in an abstract way.)

"I want you to be happy, too," Harry was telling her.

It was on the tip of her tongue to lie and say that she was. But it wasn't true, not when it came to leaving this – what she had with him – in the past. (And it'd leave a bitter taste in her mouth to end things with him on a lie of that magnitude.)

So Caitlin did what she'd learned to excel at doing years ago – to cover grief, or unhappiness, or any other negative emotion that no one _really_ wanted to hear about – she forged on.

"It's the end of the road, Harry." She fought extremely hard to keep her voice light. Carefree. Professional, even. "We've covered all the basics, you're much more comfortable, and – much to Cisco's perpetual shock – there was nothing odd about anything you did." She eyed him. "Well, nothing _too_ odd." At his disapproving look, she added, "Guess our Earths aren't much different, when it comes down to it."

"I've already told you how much I appreciate everything you did, but I'm saying it again, anyways." He wasn't sure what more to do, so he held out his hand. "It was very kind of you."

In a spur of the moment decision, she brushed his hand aside so she could hug him, and she must have taken him by surprise, because it took a few long seconds for him to return it. (Or maybe she was making him uncomfortable again?) At that thought, she quickly pulled away.

"This should be fun," she said, aiming for cheerful and not sure if she was getting there. "I attended some singles nights before, back in my college days." Before she and Ronnie had gotten serious and – she quickly shoved those memories aside. "There's less pressure because you know everyone is open to dating and there are no awkward introductions or hinting around to find out if someone's available. I did my research, too. I purposely brought us to one at a coffee shop because it's much more your type of place than a bar."

"How so?" He was genuinely curious.

"It's slower-paced here. And there's no alcohol, so things won't get too crazy."

"Maybe I _like_ crazy," he interjected, with a wink.

She couldn't contain her grin. "Okay, sure. Whatever you say, Harry."

He was squinting at her the slightest bit. "Now I'm wondering if I should be offended."

"I wasn't trying to insult you," she assured. "You're… When I think of you, I think…steady. And dependable." She looked him up and down. "Stable."

"Oh yeah," he scoffed, "those are such flattering adjectives. My God, Snow, at that rate, I'm wondering how I never put you to sleep on any one of our numerous dates."

"That's one part of you, Harry. The part that I thought would appreciate meeting someone in a low-key environment like this." She waved an arm around them. "If you want me to get into why I liked spending time with you, I could mention how engaging our discussions were, no matter the topic – whether about work or metas or just…life, in general. I could mention what a relief it was to talk to someone who's been through many of the same life experiences that I have – I don't have anyone else I can talk to about that. Or I could mention how much fun I always had, no matter what we did." She lowered her voice, remembering specifically the evenings spent at her place or his, without any actual 'plans'. "Even when we were doing…nothing at all."

"Caitlin…" he began, seeming like he was about to say something more. (Something _real_ , that would potentially shake her resolve.)

"So no," she hastily went on, "nothing I said was an insult. In any way." She rubbed at the back of her neck. "It's a _good_ thing that you're steady, that you're reliable. You're there for me. For everyone. Whenever we need you." She forced herself to meet his eyes. "I like the way that you are. _All_ the ways that you are." (And if 'like' was an incredible understatement, at least it wasn't an outright lie.)

"I…" Harry trailed off, at a loss for words, which was rare. That she thought so highly of him – he was both awed and left in disbelief. The only thing he could think to say was, "Thank you."

She gave him a half-smile, feeling relief wash over her. "I also thought you'd like it here because there's a somewhat older clientele."

"Annnd we're right back to insulting," he joked, but he didn't take offense – he was more than used to her good-natured teasing, by now.

"Again, not an insult," she said. "And I didn't mean older as in _old_ , I meant as in not just college-aged, or twenty-somethings, which is what you'd mostly find if you went to a singles night at any bar in Central City." She grimaced a little, imagining that. "I knew you wouldn't enjoy that."

"Certainly less than how little I enjoy it _here_ ," he agreed, but there was no bite to the words.

Her expression turned slightly more guarded. "If it helps, you can think of this as a final test to graduate my course. You win by successfully securing a date with someone you meet here." _Why was she still talking, and_ why _was she giving him such_ terrible _ideas, at that?_

"What about you?" He looked around, wondering if she were going to leave him there. (In which case, he'd be pretty tempted to exit soon after she did.) He shouldn't ask, because it shouldn't matter, but… "Are you going to stay?"

Caitlin had been planning on it, hoping that talking to other people would successfully distract her. Finding someone else was the first step to moving past her feelings for Harry, right? The only problem was that upon facing the very real possibility of it – a bunch of strangers, right in front of her, all of them looking for relationships – talking to any of them was the _last_ thing she wanted to do. She didn't really have a choice, though. It might seem too strange if she left him there by himself; he'd probably be able to tell something was wrong.

"I guess I'll stay," she said, trying to sound nonchalant, though she was worried it only came out strangled. "Not like I have anything else going on tonight."

 _She'd_ been the one to plan this, she reminded herself. It didn't matter if she regretted the entire idea now – she had to follow through. She steered Harry towards the check-in table and paid the $10 fee for each of them to join the group, then wrote out name tags for them both and handed his over. "There, put that on and go mingle."

He looked around the room. "Talk to _these_ people?"

"Yes, Harry." She gave him a light push towards the crowd. "That _is_ the definition of mingle." When he merely stood there, staring at her, she waved at him to walk away. (And of course he didn't move.)

"Caitlin, I don't know about this…"

"How are you going to meet anyone if you don't actually, you know, _meet_ them?"

He was scanning the room, much more wary than she was ever used to seeing from him. "I guess I never gave it much thought," he admitted.

"You don't _actually_ hate this idea, do you?" She felt a faint stirring of hope in her chest, and ruthlessly tamped it down (because even if he didn't want to stay, that had nothing to do with her). "Obviously, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I just thought it'd be…fun."

"I've said it before, but we have very different opinions of what 'fun' entails."

"No, we actually don't." She nudged his arm. "You had a _lot_ of fun on our dates. I can tell when you're pretending, Harry. And you weren't."

"That's because you know me," he said quietly, looking anywhere but at her.

"Let's make a deal," she offered. "Try it for…half an hour. You might be surprised. Again, you can't meet anyone if you don't get out there, right?"

Actually, that was kind of his hope. Because he _didn't_ want to meet anyone else, let alone date them. (Not that he could tell her that, because then she'd ask why and…) He stuck the name tag on his shirt and surveyed the room again. There were plenty of attractive women in attendance; too bad he had zero desire to approach any of them.

"Fine, I'll do it but only –" he turned to point at her, "– as long as you stay. If I have to suffer, then _you_ have to suffer."

Caitlin inwardly sighed – there went her emergency escape plan if things became too suffocating. "Maybe I won't be suffering," she said, with forced cheerfulness, as she affixed her own name tag. "Maybe I'll be having the time of my life."

He'd narrowed his eyes at her last line. "Is it my imagination or do you not seem that enthused about the prospect of staying?"

"It's your imagination," she assured him, cursing that he could see right through her. _Of course_ he could. After how close they'd become, he knew her better than anyone.

"It goes both ways, you know," he said, voice low enough that she had to take a step closer to hear him better. "I was kidding about you having to stay."

"No you weren't."

"No, I wasn't," he immediately relented. "But that doesn't matter if you _really_ want to leave. Don't stay if you're not comfortable. And certainly don't stay on _my_ account."

Her expression softened as she ran a hand down his sleeve, then caught herself and abruptly pulled away. "Thanks, Harry." She met his eyes, saying truthfully, "I want to stay." (And if the reason she wanted to stay was because _he_ was there, well…he didn't have to know that.)

"Okay," he said, though there was still a hint of suspicion in it.

 _Forge on, Caitlin. Forge on_. "Now," she clapped her hands together, in what she hoped was a believable approximation of enthusiasm, "let's try some optimism, Harry. Your future wife could be here, in this very coffee shop!" She hated the words even as she said them, glancing away so he wouldn't see that fact. "Kind of crazy, huh?"

He was silent for too long, and when she finally looked back at him to see if he'd even registered what she'd said, she found him watching her. Just _watching_ her. She replayed her words, then cringed, wondering what was _wrong_ with her. "That was – I'm sorry. That was insensitive. To bring up marriage when your wife –" She broke off, even more horrified at the fact that she'd _almost reminded him that his wife was gone_. Obviously, he knew that already. _Obviously_ , he didn't need to be reminded of it when –

"Hey," he broke into her thoughts. "Caitlin. It's okay."

She was shaking her head. "No, it's not. I shouldn't have…"

"We've talked about this," he reminded her. "You've been through it, too. And you know I'm not the type to fall apart when someone mentions Tess." He paused a moment. "The whole point of this arrangement was so that I could start to move on. _Really_ move on. And maybe find someone else. She would have wanted that. For me." He was staring across the room. "As I would have, for her."

For some reason, Caitlin felt unshed tears pricking at her eyes. "Yeah. Do you think…"

"Hmm?"

She steeled herself. "Do you think the part of you that feels…" She hesitated, looking down at her feet. "That feels guilty for loving someone else. Do you think that ever goes away?"

Harry was quiet for a long time. So long, in fact, that she had to look back up at him, and she didn't realize that a tear had escaped her eyes until Harry reached over and wiped it away with a light brush of his fingers over her cheek.

"Maybe it doesn't," he said, voice low, "but I _hope_ it does. Because he would have wanted the same for you – for you to move on and be happy."

She knew that he was talking about Ronnie. "How do you _know_?"

"Because he loved you," Harry said simply. "You can't love someone while also condemning them to misery and grief for the rest of their life. If Tess had outlived me, I would have wanted her to find happiness again." He slid his hand around to the back of her neck, holding onto her in a way she found indescribably reassuring. "If I had been Ronnie, if _I_ had been the one to leave you, I would have wanted you to be happy again."

Caitlin could only stare up at him, and there was _so much_ she wanted to say. But she couldn't. She _couldn't_. She probably wasn't even physically capable of it right then. And her view of him was getting blurrier by the moment, which made her realize she'd actually started crying. Harry pulled her into him in the next moment, and she went willingly, pressing her face to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her without hesitation. Part of her was dimly aware that a gesture like this, a mere few months ago, would have been something he never dared. Maybe never even _contemplated_. But now, it was like second nature to him, and as she brought her arms up to hug him in return, she was immensely grateful.

And her _heart_ … It shouldn't have been possible to love someone this much.

She lingered as long as she felt was appropriate, then reluctantly let go of him, swiping at her eyes as she moved back. "Thank you, Harry."

"Anything for you," he said easily.

She inhaled shakily. "What are people going to think, seeing me cry all over you?"

"The obvious," he said, flippantly. "That you saw me here tonight, decided you _had_ to have me, and desperately threw yourself at me. And when I rejected you, you had a complete breakdown, during which time I had to console you, because I'm still a gentleman."

Caitlin burst out laughing, even as she was still rubbing her eyes. ( _How could he_ do _that? How could he make her go from an overly emotional, distraught wreck, to laughing and thinking that everything would be okay, in the end?_ )

"That's a good one, Harry," she playfully chided. "You have quite the overactive imagination."

"It's not that far-fetched," he protested, dramatically.

"It's far-fetched that _anyone_ would turn me down," she said, with as much haughtiness as she could manage.

"I won't argue that," he said, as her breath caught. (Except she knew he wasn't referring to himself. He was simply paying her a general compliment, in his usual flirtatious way.)

"You shouldn't argue anything I say," she tried to tease, searching for some kind of solid ground.

"Another fair point." He was tapping his hand against his chin in thought. "Know what, Snow? I think you were right earlier, too."

Try as she might, Caitlin couldn't find the threads of their previous conversation. "Not that I'm saying I'm ever _not_ right, but what was I right about this time, specifically?"

"That my future wife could be in this building, right now." He held his arms out, apparently to encompass all of Jitters. "In fact…I hope she _is_ here."

And just like that, Caitlin felt her heart sink, to somewhere near her feet. "You do?"

"I do," he said resolutely, as he met her eyes. "Very much."

She struggled to reconcile the newfound conviction in his words with his earlier dislike of finding out what she'd planned for the night. She knew that he'd agreed to stay mostly to humor her, but now he suddenly hoped he might _marry_ someone in this place? (She was beginning to question her decision to find one of the only singles nights in Central City that didn't have alcohol.)

"Well, I…" She blinked at the sudden return of the ache around her eyes, and told herself it was because she was tired – nothing less, nothing more. "I wish the best for you, Harry."

"You too, Caitlin," he replied, voice lighter than she thought it had any right to be. "And keep your eyes open tonight, huh?" He took a step closer to her. "Anyone in here could be your future husband."

Caitlin let herself look around, feeling sick at the mere thought of dating anyone here, never mind _being with_ them, in any way. Physically or emotionally or – no, she couldn't do it.

She didn't _want_ it.

And Harry's joke? About _marrying_ someone she met tonight? The visceral wrongness of that had her hastily taking a few steps back from him, like she needed to put as much distance as possible between herself and the very idea.

He tilted his head in confusion, probably at her seeming attempt to escape. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I, uh…low blood sugar. Probably. I'm going to…" She nervously gestured behind her, towards the counter, before spinning on her heel and leaving without giving him a chance to say anything more. (Because if she didn't leave, she might lose it in front of him. _Again_. And once was enough for the evening.)

Caitlin had to dodge a dozen people on her way to join the excessively long line of customers waiting; the coffee shop was getting too crowded. It was _too much_. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and once again cursed herself for this. And it wasn't only about deciding to come here tonight…if she could rewind time to three months earlier, back to that day in the cortex with Harry and Cisco, she would have…

Her shoulders fell as she realized that, no, _she wouldn't have changed a thing_. Even though her agreement to help Harry had directly led to her current heartbreak, she wouldn't have made a different decision. Because if she had, she wouldn't have lived these past three months with him – these three amazing, hilarious, wonderful months wherein…

 _She'd fallen in love._

And Caitlin found that she was at war with herself. Part of her was begging her to go back and tell him, throw caution to the wind, and let the fall-out happen as it may. But the other part of her, the practical part hell-bent on self-preservation, reminded her that she knew what would happen – Harry would politely tell her he wasn't interested, try to let her down as easily as possible, and then…what? Go and search the crowd for someone else? No, he wasn't that callous. He'd most likely feel guilty, or responsible somehow, and he'd try to make her feel better, and the thought of him _pitying_ her in that way made her feel almost as awful as picturing him with someone else.

So what were her options? Leave Jitters, even though she'd promised that she'd stay, or try and make the most of this evening and find someone else. Someone new. There were thousands of available men in Central City, and plenty happened to be here tonight: single, attractive men who were openly looking for a relationship. Caitlin was a realist; she knew there were plenty of people out there with whom she could probably have a happy, fulfilling relationship.

 _But her goddamn heart._ It was a traitor. And it kept telling her that _no one_ would ever be what Harrison Wells was to her.

And that was maybe the worst part of this, because she knew that even if she were able to get past her mental roadblock and date someone else, part of her would always miss him. _And who did she have to blame?_ Herself. _Only_ herself.

Caitlin angrily pushed the thoughts aside as the line inched closer to the counter – at least the shop had been prepared and had extra staff on shift tonight. There were people everywhere, some connections clearly having already been formed, and she also noted a few interested glances being sent her way. She felt sick again and almost veered out of the line, but some food would probably do her good and distract her from the gnawing pit in her stomach. At the very least, it'd give her an excuse to do something other than stand around awkwardly, pretending like she wanted to be there.

When it was finally her turn, she paid for her coffee and scone, trying to give as reassuring a smile to the barista as she could, in response to the worried look she got from the teen girl (which was probably due to the fact that Caitlin's eyes were still red-rimmed from crying). _And what had Caitlin's life come to that a high schooler was looking at her with so much overflowing empathy? Did she really seem that much in need of a hug?_ At the thought, she couldn't help flashing back to the way Harry had comforted her earlier, and she glanced towards the entrance, but he wasn't there anymore.

Instead of bringing her food back up front (in a pitiful excuse at trying to see if she could spot Harry among the crowd), Caitlin moved to the back of the room, which was thankfully more quiet and somewhat separated from everyone else; it seemed to be an area where couples were chatting and getting to know one another, instead of mingling with everyone at once.

She snagged one of the few empty tables left, grateful it was on the aisle in case she had to make a quick getaway (despite her promise to Harry that she'd stay). She proceeded to pick at her scone, but each bite tasted like nothing and her stomach was starting to hurt, reminding her she wasn't hungry and that the food wasn't doing its job of distracting her. There was a growing feeling of dread in her, something dark that was weighing her down more by the second.

She couldn't stop herself from stealing glances around the room, but Harry was nowhere to be found, no matter where she looked, and she began to wonder if he might have taken off without telling her. But he wouldn't do that, would he? No, probably not, especially after his attitude had done a complete 180 and he'd become _eager_ to scour the room for the future Mrs. Harrison Wells – she cut off that line of thinking and pressed her hands to the back of her neck, trying to ease the tension she felt there. Maybe Harry had found someone he'd wanted to get to know better, maybe they'd slipped outside to talk where it was quieter…and she wished him well. She _did_. She wanted him to be happy, even if his happiness, by consequence, meant that _she_ was condemned to be unhappy.

As hard as she tried to fight it, suddenly all she could picture was Harry finding someone here, or somewhere else. And he'd start dating them, casually at first, but it'd slowly become more serious. They'd eventually move in together. They might want to marry each other. They might want to have _children_. And she'd have to watch it all unfold before her eyes – because she saw him every day – and she'd have to smile and pretend she was fine. Pretend that him falling in love with someone, while she was forced to watch, didn't devastate her.

How in the world was she ever supposed to do that?

She gathered her things, deciding to give up and leave, when someone took the seat across from her without asking. She glanced up and inwardly groaned when she saw who it was – _Ralph Dibny_.

"Caitlin Snow!" he exclaimed, causing a few people at nearby tables to look over. "Imagine my shock at seeing such a beautiful woman sitting alone by herself."

"Hi, Ralph," she greeted, rather subdued. It _would_ be her luck to run into him here. And he wasn't going to make this easy on her, was he? _Maybe she could escape…_ "I was about to leave, so you can have the table for yourself and –"

"Nonsense," he said, grinning. "You have to stay! Give me the lay of the land, alright? I only arrived a few minutes ago – had to make a fashionably late entrance, you see. Let all the ladies know –" he raised his voice until it was unnaturally loud, "– what they could have with Ralph Dibny here!"

"I'm sure your plan had its intended effect," she said, and he seemed not to register the sarcasm in her voice. Or maybe he didn't care.

"I got quite a few 'come hither' glances on my way back here, I'll have you know. One gorgeous woman, in particular, gave me such a hostile glare that I could _feel_ the heat of it." At Caitlin's confusion, he explained, "I might have accidentally bumped into her, but in my defense, it's crowded in here!"

Unsurprisingly, his explanation did little to…explain anything. "Why do you seem so thrilled that someone here now hates you?"

"Passion, Caitlin. It's all about passion! I'm going to let her stew for a while and then circle back around to her later."

"I'm sure that'll…work out for you?"

His grin only got wider. "I always did love your optimism. Although, I must say, she might be left unfulfilled tonight if I can manage to get a date with the most amazing woman here." When Caitlin didn't react, he added, "That'd be you."

It was a near thing, but she managed not to roll her eyes. "I'm not here for the singles mixer, Ralph."

"Despite the name tag?"

 _Right_. She quickly pulled it off. "I… It's not what it looks like."

"Why are you here, if not for the mixer?" he asked, because 'Ralph' and 'giving up easy' were pretty much polar opposite terms. "And why are you hiding in the emptiest section of Jitters, at that?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she mumbled, eating another piece of scone.

Ralph was studying her, because for all of his jovial, carefree, outward demeanor, he _was_ a Private Investigator, which meant he had to read people well for a living. It didn't take him long to pinpoint the problem, either. "You and Harry broke up."

Caitlin started coughing, hard enough that she nearly choked. He grew so alarmed that he was about to get up, probably to start hitting her on the back or something, and she held up a hand to indicate she was okay. "What? _No._ " Her eyes were watering from the coughing fit and she angrily pressed a hand to them. "What are you talking about? You can't break up with someone you're not even… _with_."

"What are _you_ talking about?" he countered. "You and Harry have been together for months. Since before I even met you, in fact."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing, but he was serious. He _actually_ believed that. "We aren't together. And we never were."

"Is this some kind of practical joke? You were dating. Everyone knew you were dating. I _saw_ you go out on dates."

"Did no one ever explain to you what we were doing?" _Had they just assumed he knew?_ (Apparently, if his refusal to believe her was anything to go by.)

"It seemed straightforward enough to me," he said. "Why do you think I never hit on you?"

She had to laugh at that. "That's why you never hit on me? Because you thought that Harry and I…" Her heart clenched at the sudden remembrance that _no, she and Harry weren't together, had never been, and never would be_.

"I can't believe I could have had you months ago," Ralph was lamenting, mostly to himself.

"Oh yeah, because if you'd spoken a single word about being interested, I would have fallen at your feet."

"I do have that effect on women," he smirked, but she caught his lighthearted tone. "So, if you two weren't dating…then what was going on?"

"It's a long story."

"I have nothing but time." He lowered his voice to a near whisper, "Besides, the longer I stay with you, the more jealous these women get, thinking I might be off the market. I have 'building anticipation' down to a fine art."

She shook her head at his pick up techniques before truly considering his offer. _What would it hurt to talk about it?_ If she couldn't be with Harry, talking about him was at least salve enough to stop her immediate misery at the thought that he could be talking to his 'future wife' _this very moment_. Besides, Ralph was their friend and she couldn't help feeling a little bad that it had been _months_ and no one had let him in on the truth. "I was helping him out, Ralph."

"Ohhh," he nodded, in sudden understanding. "I get it. Like a sexual escort type thing."

"No!" She broke off a piece of scone and chucked it at his head. "You idiot. I'm not a…prostitute."

"Hey, I have nothing but the greatest respect for the industry." He was holding up his hands in protest. "Some of my fondest memories, in fact, revolve around –"

"Stop right there." She pointed at him in warning. Before he could keep on with that line of conversation (and make her debate throwing her coffee at him, too) she clarified, "He wanted to reenter the dating scene; it'd been a while for him and you know he's not from…this Earth. So I was helping him out. And _no_ , that does not include sex or anything remotely close to it. So think before you speak."

"Fine, sorry that I thought you were –" He must have seen the warning in her eyes, since he hastily went on, "Okay. You were helping him date. By dating him."

" _Pretending_ to date him."

"I get it now."

Caitlin was beyond skeptical. "Do you?"

"Not at all."

She worked hard to keep her patience. "What part are you confused about?"

"The whole… _pretend_ thing. How do you pretend to date someone?" Ralph was truly curious. "What makes it different from _actual_ dating?"

Caitlin stared at him, twisting those questions around and around in her mind. Because she had never really considered them before. _What_ did _make it different?_

"Well?" he prompted.

 _What have you been doing, Caitlin?_

 _It wasn't real._ She'd been telling herself that, over and over, for months. _Only_ her feelings were real, and they shouldn't have been, and she had berated herself for that – all without realizing that she'd been lying to herself about everything. Because their relationship _had_ been real. It had been real to _her_. That was why she'd developed feelings for him in the first place – because there _was no difference_.

All it took were a couple innocent questions from Ralph to make her realize that, deep down, she'd _always_ viewed what she had with Harry as a real relationship, no matter how many lies she told herself on the surface. And that was why this hurt as much as it did. Because to Harry, they had ended the equivalent of a business arrangement. But to Caitlin…they had _broken up_. (Which meant Ralph's assumption had been right in a way she hadn't realized.)

What had she _done_ to herself?

"I _saw_ you guys," Ralph said, in as gentle a tone as she'd ever heard from him. "It looked real to me. Are you sure it wasn't real to you, too?"

She suddenly wanted to tell him, tell _someone_ , because it was killing her and she didn't know how much longer she could hide it anymore. "Maybe it was…real to me." She felt like crying again, for perhaps the hundredth time that night, but she valiantly fought against it. "Ralph, I… I accidentally fell in love with him." It hurt to say it, but the admission also came with a sense of relief that allowed her to breathe a little easier.

"Let me see if I've got this right. You two dated. You formed a…relationship. And then you fell in love." He tipped his coffee at her, slightly. "That's kind of the whole _point_ of dating. I think you did it right."

"No, I did it wrong." She put her head in her hands. "Don't you get it, Ralph? Why I'm here tonight? Harry's here somewhere, too. Because _he_ didn't fall in love with _me_."

"He didn't?" Ralph seemed almost shocked. "I guess you'd know better than me." He sighed, seeming to get lost in his own memories. "It's hard, Caitlin. Trust me, I've been there. _Many_ times. Telling someone how you feel, and hearing they don't feel the same…it's rough."

Caitlin glanced back up at him. "I didn't actually…tell him. Per se."

"Wait." He held up a hand. "Back up a second. You _never told him_?"

"I didn't see much point. I knew he didn't feel the same."

"Because…he's the one who said you two should stop what you were doing?"

"No, I was the one who said we should end it."

"Which means, if it had been up to him, he would have let things keep going. Indefinitely."

"No," she protested. "He would have ended things on his own, probably soon. He wanted to meet someone. He wanted to…start dating again."

"He did," Ralph pointed out. "He dated _you_. And he let it go on for months – that doesn't sound like someone in a hurry to end things to me."

"I don't know about that," Caitlin said, defensively. "Maybe he wanted to end it for a long time and he felt bad about…hurting my feelings, or something. Or maybe he was just…lonely."

It was like he didn't even hear her as he started ticking items off on his fingers: "You never told him how you felt. _You're_ the one who broke things off. And he never made any indication he wanted to end things between the two of you. Is that right?"

"I get it, alright?" She rubbed her temples. "I let myself get invested in a relationship that wasn't real. I should have gone about things very differently. I – I have only myself to blame."

" _That's_ what you took from what I said?" Ralph studied her with such a… _pitying_ look that Caitlin automatically bristled. "Can I let you in on a secret, even though it's not my place?"

"When has that ever stopped you before?"

He didn't even smile at her acerbic joke. "Harry's in love with you."

"No," she snapped, shaking her head. "He's not. I would know. He would have told me."

"Like you would have told him?" He stared at her pointedly. "And _didn't_?"

"I…" She refused to accept that he might have a valid point. (He _couldn't,_ not after what Harry had said earlier.) "He's here tonight. He said he wanted to find his Mrs. Right, or whoever. He _said_ that he hoped she was in this coffee shop."

Ralph shut his eyes for a brief moment, and when he opened them again, it looked like he wanted to say something, but he stopped himself. (For the first time in…maybe ever.)

Caitlin waited. And waited. And then her fraying patience finally snapped. "What!"

"Nothing," he said innocently. _Too_ innocently. "I'm only wondering how soon after I get up that he's going to come over here. I'm actually surprised he hasn't already. I have no doubt he's noticed us sitting together by now. The poor guy has to be terrified that I'm going to steal you out from under him." His eyes widened at his own phrasing. "Wait, not from under him. _Away_ from him! That wasn't a sex joke; I swear I didn't realize how it'd sound. Don't hit me."

She was too busy thinking about what he'd said to take offense. "You think… You think that he's in love with me?"

"I don't _think_ anything," he told her. "I know it. So you two better straighten this out on your own or I'm going to have to do it for you – and trust me, you don't want that." He got to his feet, confidently scanning the room. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go inform some lucky woman in here that she's won the lottery tonight." He leaned down to unnecessarily add, "And by 'lottery', I mean me. I'm referring to myself."

Before she could respond, he'd disappeared back into the crowd, and she found that her hands were shaking. She quickly pressed them together in an attempt at getting herself back under control.

And less than a minute later, Harry stopped next to her table.

"I can see this seat isn't taken," he told her, "but apparently I'm supposed to ask if it is, anyways."

All she felt at his sudden appearance was overwhelming relief. She motioned for him to sit, glad her hands were steady again. "What's going on? You're supposed to be mingling."

"So are you," he countered, "yet I haven't seen you out there once tonight. So I've been miserable – alone, might I add. Meanwhile," he picked up her coffee and took a sip, grimacing, "you get to drink this horrible sugar concoction with slight coffee flavoring, and sit over here in peace. It hardly seems fair."

Her thoughts briefly went back to that first afternoon, in the cortex with Cisco, when she'd tried Harry's coffee and declared its bitterness equally as terrible; as such, she couldn't help wondering if he'd insulted her own coffee on purpose.

When she said nothing, he kept talking. "Although you _did_ have to suffer through twenty minutes of Dibny, so I suppose things are even."

"You could have come over at _any_ time." She knew she was borderline sulking.

"Yes." His eyes were sparkling. "I could have."

"You're such a jerk," she said, starting to grin.

"I talk to him enough on a regular basis," he said, attempting to defend himself. "I don't need to do it outside of working hours, too. Also, everyone else needs to get that memo – they're always trying to talk to me about their problems, for some reason."

She propped her head on one of her hands. "Gee, Harry. Could it be that they consider you a _friend_?"

"Probably," he sighed, with theatrical exaggeration. "And if _talking_ is such an important part of this 'friends' thing on your Earth, then I think we all need more distance from each other."

"It's too late," she reminded him. "You already told me you were going to stay on our Earth."

"Yeah." His eyes turned warmer. "I'm going to stay." He briefly glanced away, in the direction that Ralph had disappeared. "You know, you two looked awfully cozy over here. Does that mean I was right after all? Did you find someone worthy of marrying you?"

"That's not funny."

"I find it funny."

"Ralph and I had what _he_ thought was an enlightening discussion. And he's actually a pretty sweet, caring guy. But he's nowhere close to anyone I would marry. He's not…" _you_. She swallowed back that last word with such fierceness that everything in her _hurt_.

"Enlightening discussion, huh?" He'd broken off a piece of her scone like he had every right to do so. (And he did.) "What was it about?"

 _Harry's in love with you_.

She couldn't _say_ that. (And not least of all because it wasn't true.) "I don't remember," she muttered.

"You don't remember," Harry said flatly, disbelief lacing every inch of his words. "You have zero recollection of the 'enlightening' conversation you had, mere minutes ago, with Dibny."

She really should have known better than to use that word – Harry wasn't great at letting things go. She thought back to what he'd said when he first came over, desperate to change the subject. "You've been miserable tonight? You could have left, Harry. It truly wasn't my intent for you to hate this."

"You stayed," he pointed out. "Despite not wanting to. And if you were determined to give this a shot, I knew I could, too." He was starting to sound pretty proud of himself. "And I _did_."

She worked extremely hard to keep her voice neutral for her next question: "Did you…meet anyone?"

"Yes," he said, without hesitation. "Many people."

"Harry. You know what I mean."

He nodded, because he did know. "Did I meet someone I wanted to date?" His eyes were fixed on the table, considering how to answer that, then he glanced up to meet her eyes. "Yes."

Her heart constricted and she told herself she was happy for him. This was what she'd wanted, because it was what _he_ wanted. "I'm glad, Harry."

"Are you?" he asked curiously, because he was trying to read her, but for the first time in three months, he was having trouble. Her face had transformed into a perfectly expressionless mask.

"I wanted you to find someone. That was…" She cleared her throat. "That was why we did what we did. And why we're here tonight." When he said nothing, she forced herself to ask, "What's she like?"

"She's brilliant. And gorgeous." A smile was growing on his face, eyes shining; paradoxically, the happier he seemed, the worse Caitlin felt. "She's kind and caring. She makes me laugh. And she's amazingly compassionate – she cares about strangers as much as her friends. Her family."

"She sounds wonderful." Caitlin was barely able to hear herself, her voice had fallen so low. And something was nagging at her, something she couldn't quite place. "How do you know that much about someone after such a short amount of time?"

"In the interest of honesty?" He folded his hands, leaning slightly over the table. "I've actually known her for years. We've been friends a long time."

"Oh. You never mentioned…" She glanced behind him, wondering who in the crowd he could possibly be talking about. "I didn't realize you had friends on this Earth outside of…our group."

"I don't."

His words weighed in the air between them, as Caitlin struggled to figure out what he was saying, because it felt like she could see a dozen individual pieces, but no matter which way she turned them, they wouldn't _fit_ together in any way she could comprehend. Because it almost seemed like he was saying… _but he couldn't be_. She refused to let herself believe, only to be –

"It took me a while to realize that…what we had?" Harry pulled her out of her thoughts. "We could have more. We could _be_ _so much more_. And that revelation hit me, for the first time, in this very coffee shop. A few months ago." He tipped his head behind him. "It was right over there. Four tables back."

She automatically looked beyond him, to the table he was referring to – it was where they'd sat, that first night. The night they had started… _this_.

And just like that, the pieces rearranged themselves, falling into place.

" _Me_?" Her voice broke on that word. "You're talking about me?"

"Seriously, Snow." He heaved a dramatic sigh. "It took you long enough. For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to draw you a diagram."

"A diagram." _What would that even look like?_

"Yeah, you know," he said lightly, and she wondered if she'd asked her question out loud, "like our initials inside a heart or something." He winced, rubbing a hand over his face. "God, I sound like Allen, don't I? Feel free to slap me anytime I say anything even remotely near his level of sappiness. No, actually, I _order_ you to do it."

She was still trying to process everything she'd learned. "You…like me." She couldn't manage to say anything else, wondering if Harry thought she sounded as much like a lovestruck teenager as she was pretty sure she did.

"I _much_ more than like you," he corrected. "I'm in love with you. There will never be anyone else for me _except_ you."

"You're…"

" _I'm in love with you_ ," he repeated. Slow. And quiet. Like it was a fact that deserved a certain reverence. "It happened pretty quickly after we began this. And I don't see how I could ever stop." He met her eyes, gaze serious. "I tried, Caitlin. I tried to stop. Because I was certain you didn't return my feelings. But I failed."

"I didn't know," she whispered.

Ha laughed shortly. "You made that pretty clear a few minutes ago."

"The idea of you feeling more for me… I wondered, sometimes. I even hinted around, but you never said anything and I convinced myself it would never happen." She looked down at her hands. "I didn't want to risk telling you, risk ruining our friendship, because if I lost this – if I lost _you_ …" She made herself look up at him again. "I didn't know how I would get through it."

"Caitlin. I had no idea you felt the same. If I had…"

"It's okay," she assured him. "I'm okay."

"We're terrible at communicating," he said wryly. "It's a wonder we ever got as far as we did." He took a breath, thinking of how best to explain what he'd gone through during their time together the past few months. "That first night? When we came here? That was when I first had the stray idea that I didn't want us to be pretending. Looking back, I realize it was the beginning. My feelings only got stronger and I tried to ignore them because I didn't want anything to affect our friendship. Not when you were being so kind to me and helping me – which, you _did_ help me, Caitlin. I hope you know how true that is."

"I do know; you've told me and I believe you."

"Good," he said firmly. "But as my feelings grew stronger, I became afraid I was taking advantage. Of your kindness. Your generosity. It almost felt like I was enjoying our time together too much. Like part of me was pretending it was real and that was…unfair to you – because you never gave any indication that you felt the same. That's why I tried to forget about how I felt, to push those feelings aside. I had every intention of moving past it, moving on. But then I started seeing these small things that made me think…maybe I was wrong. Maybe you wanted this to be real, too."

She couldn't say anything, amazed at how similar his thoughts, his hopes (his _fears_ ) had been to her own.

"I was going to tell you last week," he continued. "That night when I arranged our date? I did that for you. For _you_ , Caitlin. Not as some way to prove myself, or to impress you when it came to what we were doing – I wasn't trying to show you that I could create a perfect date for someone. My only intention that night was _to make you happy_. And I was going to end our evening by telling you that I was in love with you. Except…before I could…"

"I told you that I thought we should stop, that we should end this." _This_. She pressed a hand over her heart in an attempt at easing the ache there.

"You ruined my entire plan," he informed her. "I think it would have been pretty romantic, too." He glanced around the coffee shop, adding dryly, "More romantic, in any case, than telling you in the middle of Jitters during one of their singles nights."

Caitlin took a steadying breath. "You were going to tell me last week, but decided not to. So what made you decide to tell me tonight?"

"I was going to let it go," he admitted. "I really was. I thought you'd given me your answer before I could even confess how I felt. But then you brought me here and… It was you, Caitlin."

"What do you mean?"

"You told me that you loved me."

"No, I didn't," she protested. "I would remember that."

"Do you think the part of you that feels guilty…" He let his words fade and the memory of what she'd said hit her with sudden, painful clarity: _Do you think the part of you that feels guilty for loving someone else ever goes away?_

Harry recognized the moment she understood. "Who else could you possibly love besides me?" he asked gently. "We've spent the past three months together. I would have noticed if there were someone else around that you loved."

"There's no one else," she confirmed. "It was only ever you."

He nodded at that. "And I could tell, by the way you were speaking, that your question wasn't merely some abstract, stray thought. It was something you'd contemplated for a while." He smiled at her then, and it was tinged with a slight sadness. "I hope you've reached your peace with it, too."

"I already had," she assured him. "My question was mostly rhetorical. Because even if the small part of me that feels that way never completely fades, I knew what you said earlier was true. That Ronnie would want me to be happy. I would have wanted him to be, as well."

"And are you?" Harry whispered. "Happy?"

"I am," she whispered back. "With you."

He smiled at her, beyond relieved to hear that. "I was about to tell you earlier this evening, after I figured out you returned my feelings. But you pretty much ran away from me. _Literally_. What was that about?"

It took her a few moments to realize what he was referring to. "Harry, you told me you hoped your future wife was here somewhere! I was shocked and I was…sad. I couldn't stay there listening to you talk about how you were going to go off and find the love of your life."

"It never once occurred to you that I was referring to _you_?" He sounded both amused and exasperated, which was the usual for him, but now there was the addition of something more… _Fondness_.

"No, I –" Her eyes widened as she put together what he was saying, a few seconds late, and she gripped the edges of the table to ground herself. "You want to _marry_ me?"

"Yes," he said simply. "If you want that, too."

"I…" _She was speechless, that's what she was._

"I want a life with you," he told her. "Whatever that means to you. Marriage or not." He leveled her with a gaze that she found steady. And calming. "That's what I want. So what do _you_ want?"

"You," she breathed. "I want you. In every way."

"That sounds acceptable to me," he said lightly, holding out a hand in offer. She tried to calm her racing heart as she got up and walked around to his side of the table. They'd been doing this for months, so there was no reason to be nervous, or worried, or unsure of –

He quieted her increasingly frantic thoughts by pulling her against him in an unexpected hug. He hadn't stood up, so they were about even height this way, and she pressed her forehead to his shoulder. She needed a few moments to ensure her breathing was even before she admitted, "I'm in love with you, too. So much. To the point that I don't know what to do with it, Harry."

"Don't know what to do with it, hmm?" She felt him kiss the side of her head. "I can think of a few things."

She was back to slightly more solid ground now that he'd returned to teasing her, as usual. "You can, can you?"

"Definitely," he murmured, eyes alight with…well, it had to be _love_. "I don't know about you, Snow, but after three months of dating, I think maybe we've earned –"

She stopped his sentence by leaning in to kiss him before she could overthink the sudden desire. It was sweet, and slow, and conveyed everything she felt for him. Had _ever_ felt for him. And it _hurt_ , almost. The intensity of her feelings. But it was such a relief to stop hiding, to put her emotions out there in the world, to let Harry _know_ – and to accept how he felt about her in return. (And she didn't know if she'd ever get over her amazement at that – not after how convinced she'd been, for so long, that he didn't feel the same.)

She meant the kiss to be brief, an acknowledgement of their feelings, of what they _had_ , but she got drawn in – as she always seemed to with him, no matter what they were doing. He moved a hand to the back of her neck and put his free arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, and she breathed him in, thinking they had a _lot_ of things to make up for.

When they broke apart, the reality of where they were came flooding back – for a minute there, the rest of the world had fallen away. ( _And, oh, how she didn't mind_.)

"So," she whispered, "what do we do now?"

"I think we keep doing what we've been doing," he suggested.

"You mean just now?" She leaned back into him. "Kissing?"

"Sure, that," he said agreeably, eyes gleaming. "But I was actually referring to the fact that we were _already_ dating. Only we kind of…didn't realize it."

His words were a close echo of what she'd realized earlier, and she went over everything, trying to work out what had happened – to _both_ of them. "By fake dating – so you could actually date again – we were both pretending, but in so pretending, we developed real feelings for each other – that we then hid, in order to keep fake dating because we wanted to _really_ date each other?"

"Hell if I know, but sounds accurate enough," he agreed, as he got up from the table. "Can we get out of here?" He sent her an assessing glance, then checked the time. "Unless you want to stick it out for the last two hours, see if someone better than me comes along?"

"Get going," she ordered, with an excessive amount of affection, as she gave him a light shove towards the exit.

"That was a test," he informed her, reaching down to take her hand. "Obviously, there's no one better than me. And you passed, by the way."

"Yeah, well, you didn't," she reminded him. When he looked over in confusion, she explained, "You didn't pick anyone up, which was my last test."

"I picked _you_ up," he countered smugly, clearly thinking he'd won.

"No," she laughed. "I don't count."

"How do you not count?"

She meant her voice to remain teasing, but it came out too serious. "You already had me."

He stopped walking and she made it two steps forward before realizing it – he used their joined hands to pull her back and into another kiss – one which spoke to a promise of more. Of _forever_.

"I forgot it was singles night," a familiar voice griped from nearby. "We can get our coffee to go and – oh my God."

They pulled away from each other, turning at the same time to see Cisco standing in front of them. And not only him – Gypsy was standing next to him, with her arm draped over his shoulder, and Barry and Iris had come to a stop on his other side.

"Wait, what?" Barry asked, in abject confusion. "I thought this whole thing was pretend."

"Maybe they're just… _really_ good at pretending," Iris said, raising an eyebrow as she sent them a look that meant she _would_ get the whole story out of them, eventually.

"I like their version of pretending," Gypsy said suggestively, complete with an appreciative smirk (and Cisco, for his part, hadn't managed to speak again).

"It's complicated," Harry began.

"We were pretending to date and it turns out we developed real feelings for each other," Caitlin finished.

"Alright, not that complicated," Harry quipped as he glanced at Caitlin, both of them astounded at how easy it was to explain when it came down to it.

"I knew it!" Cisco suddenly yelled, startling a bunch of people nearby. "I knew it a week ago, on that rooftop. I don't know why you two didn't come out and tell us though; you didn't have to try and hide it. We _all_ knew."

"We did?" Barry protested, sounding put out. "No one told _me_!"

"Really, honey?" Iris rubbed his arm in apology. "You didn't notice they were in love?"

"Wait, you could –" Caitlin's voice faltered. "You could tell?"

"I'm fairly certain the whole city could tell," Iris said, with an unsuccessful attempt to stifle her laughter. "Seeing as you traversed most of it during your 'fake' dates."

"You're never going to believe this," Harry told the assembled group, "but we weren't 'hiding' anything. We _just_ got together."

"Yeah," Cisco said, like it was obvious. "Last week. After dancing around each other for _ever_. I couldn't figure out what you two were waiting for. But after Harry's admittedly super-romantic date – I didn't know you had it in you, Wells – that's when I knew you'd finally decided to get together for real."

"We didn't get together last week," Harry corrected. "When I said it just happened, I mean it _just_ happened. As in ten minutes ago."

Cisco and Iris immediately looked to Caitlin, who shrugged and nodded. "It's true." She relaxed against Harry's side, and even though it was the kind of thing she'd often done before, she reveled in the thrill of being able to do it now while openly admitting to herself that she loved him. And he knew it. _And he loved her back._ Her contentment only deepened when he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Neither of us had any idea how the other felt," she added. "Not until tonight."

"Wow, you two are _clueless_ ," Cisco muttered. "I wish I'd known you were that oblivious; I'd have had a _lot_ more fun messing with you both these past few months."

"Thanks for the support, Ramon," Harry said, rolling his eyes. But then he paused and studied the younger man, considering that if Cisco had never brought up the topic a few months earlier, it was highly likely he and Caitlin wouldn't be where they were right now – they hadn't developed these feelings until they began dating, so if they never had… Cisco had brought them together, altered the course of their lives, and Harry would never be anything except truly grateful for that. "Cisco. Seriously. You're the reason we began this… So thank you."

Cisco blinked at his sudden shift in mood. "Uh…you're welcome, Harry."

"We really appreciate it, Cisco," Caitlin added, as she and Harry walked around their friends to head for the doors. "We'd stay to chat, but we have something like…twenty-five dates to make up for."

Gypsy laughed at that. "I _bet_ you guys do. New relationships are so exciting! On Earth-19, when two people first get together –"

"Honey, honey," Cisco hissed. "Please. No. The thought of Harry and Caitlin and – just _no_."

"You two know where to find me," Gypsy called after them, blatantly ignoring her boyfriend. And just before Caitlin and Harry made it out the door, she heard Iris asking Gypsy to explain what she'd meant (while Cisco loudly begged them to stop talking).

Caitlin needed a few moments to stop laughing when they stepped out into the cool night air. "I think that went pretty well, all things considered."

"And," Harry said, taking her hand and drawing her into him, "your night's only going to get better."

She tilted her head back to look up at him. "You're pretty sure of yourself."

"I'm Harrison Wells," he replied, like he didn't have to say anything more.

"Thanks for reminding me," she said brightly, then added, with the faintest hint of teasing, "I'd hate to have to spend another three months going over what you should do when you spend the night."

That time, he was the one who laughed. "I actually think that's a great idea," he said, failing to keep the humor out of his voice. "You should probably go over everything. And I mean _everything_. Be as specific as possible, too, and you'll obviously have to include demonstrations – never know what's different between our Earths, after all."

She knew he was kidding, but part of her wondered… "It can't be that different, can it?"

He shrugged, as if anything were possible.

"You're going to pretend to be completely clueless, aren't you?" she guessed.

"The thought crossed my mind," he allowed, playfully. "You should also know that I'm a firm believer in equality – I'm perfectly fine with letting a woman do all the work."

"It's _work_ to you?" she joked. "I guess things _are_ a lot different where you're from."

"Things aren't that different," he relented. "I'll show you."

"I thought you wanted _me_ to show _you_?" She met his eyes, and she knew the love she saw there was reflected in her own.

He ran his hands down her sides and murmured, "We'll show each other."

"Will we? Because we're kind of just standing around on the sidewalk, Harry."

He moved his hands behind her, encircling her waist. "You have a fair point. At this rate, we're never going to get home." Despite his statement, he seemed in no hurry to move. _At all_.

She looped an arm around his neck, pulling him down for what she meant to be a teasing kiss – but it quickly turned more serious and lasted at least four times as long as she'd intended. When she eased back, she was thrilled and breathless and she somehow knew that _this was it_. For the rest of her life, he would be _it_ for her.

"I don't _entirely_ mind if it takes us a while to get home," she admitted, once she could gather herself enough to speak.

"Full disclosure?" he murmured. "Neither do I."

A loud whistle from nearby caused Caitlin to jump – and she didn't have to turn to know it was Ralph.

"Move it along, Dibny," Harry said, as if the order would be sufficient enough.

"Knew I was right about you two," he gloated, as Caitlin turned to find him standing a few feet away. "I saw you two leaving and wanted to come congratulate you." He turned to Caitlin, adding smugly, "Now would be a great time to admit I was right."

"Right about what?" Harry asked.

"He…might have told me you were in love with me. Right before you did."

Harry looked aghast at that information. "He stole my thunder? _Ralph Dibny_ , of all people, told you before I could?"

"Aww," Ralph said, pityingly, "it's not Caitlin's fault that she's incredibly unobservant."

"Yeah – hey!" Caitlin protested. "Harry is at _least_ as unobservant as me."

"For sure," Ralph allowed, "but I expect far less of him."

"Thought I told you to move it along," Harry said darkly.

Ralph couldn't contain his grin as he took a few steps backwards towards the building. "Right, gotta get back in there. I still haven't found the right person yet." He looked between Harry and Caitlin. "Guess I'm not as lucky as you guys," he added, before he went back inside.

"Dibny's right about that, at least," Harry said, turning back to Caitlin. "I _am_ lucky."

"We're _both_ lucky."

He nodded in agreement, then reached over to brush some stray hair out of her eyes. "You're going to marry me, right?"

The abrupt question took her by surprise, and she could only look at him, registering the hope, the plea, the _longing_ in that question.

"Because you never actually answered me when I brought it up before," he continued, at her silence. "Or said 'yes'. Which made me wonder…"

"I'm going to marry you," she assured him, noting the obvious relief that crossed his face. (And the love – how had she ever missed the _love_?) "But you don't need… Harry, you don't need marriage to keep me. If that's what you're thinking. This is –" It was a genuine effort to keep her voice even, to keep it from breaking. "This is _already_ forever for me."

"It's not about 'keeping you'," he said, moving his hands to either side of her face. "It's about…loving you. That's it."

" _That's it_ ," she repeated, somewhat in awe at the way he'd so accurately echoed her own thoughts.

"Yes," he confirmed, and when she broke into a grin, he moved in to kiss her again (to prove he meant it, of course).

 **XXXXXX**


End file.
